


she said love don't come easy (it's a game of give and take)

by thispapermoon



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Cross Cultural Exchanges, Double Hubble Trouble, F/F, Felicity x Mildred, Found Family, Hecate Mentors Mildred, Hicsqueak, HubbleStar, Misunderstandings, Parent Trap style shenanigans, Pippa x Julie friendship fic, Slow Burn, Two witches in love, You've Got Mail style romancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-04-27 21:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14434506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thispapermoon/pseuds/thispapermoon
Summary: “Apprentice?” Miss Hardbroom’s voice is very strangled, like she’s chewing on glass.“Don’t you think that’s the ideal solution? Mildred needs a guide in the ways of the magical world. And who better to teach her than someone as dedicated to The Craft as yourself.” Miss Pentangle smiles sweetly.Mum is still looking between them all only now she seems about to laugh. “Yes, that’s right,” she leans in again, her smile every bit as sweet as Miss Pentangle’s. “How kind of you to offer, Miss Hardbroom.”“I never offered -”“I’m sure Mildred will benefit greatly from everything you can teach her. After all, you are rather an expert in The Code, I hear.”Miss Hardbroom continues to sputter.****Pippa befriends Julie Hubble.Hecate suddenly finds herself with an apprentice.Mildred has watched The Parent Trap one too many times. But she should have been watching You've Got Mail instead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally happening! The [Pippa x Julie Friendship Fic](https://always-la-belle-epoque.tumblr.com/post/170658396952/headcanon-after-the-events-of-the-spelling-bee) I meant to write and ended up with 'Help Me When I Fall to Walk Unafraid' instead. This fic is much kinder to Julie. <3 
> 
> I'm really nervous to post bit by bit but I'm not going to be around for the next week and wanted to get this up! Thanks for all the support as always <3

Mildred’s boots feel very heavy on her feet as she plods up the steps towards the Mirror Room. It’s been a rubbish day she decides, huffing a strand of hair that’s frizzing from her plait out of her eyes. A very rubbish day. And all thanks to Ethel Hallow.

It’s not her fault that Ethel had used a Vanishing Eraser on her copy of that day’s potion lesson. And it’s equally not her fault that as a result she’d missed a vital ingredient in the Summoning Spell they’d been tasked with brewing. She’d been so careful even - really she had - reading and rereading the instructions three times and checking her measurements nearly as often to ensure absolute accuracy.

But it had hardly mattered. Instead of producing a perfectly pale lilac potion that could be used to conjure objects from various locations, she’d spent the last ten minutes of class chasing her cauldron as it zoomed around the room away from her. Because who knew that failing to add crushed badger claw to the brew would create a rather strong Repelling Serum instead?

 _Ethel surely knew_ , she thinks darkly, as she toils her way up the tower steps, recalling how Miss Hardbroom had vanished the cauldron along with its contents and awarded her another _naught percent._

But it’s not her _fault_.

It doesn’t make her feel any better. No. She feels tired, and grouchy, and all she wants to do is curl up with Tabby after a nice chat with Mum and forget today ever happened.

So it’s a miracle, really, given the day she’s had, that when she gets to the Mirror Room she finds that there’s no one in line. Opening the heavy wooden door she throws herself down in the chair after waving her token, fretfully chewing on the ends of her hair as she waits.

And waits.

And _where is Mum._

She kicks her boot against the leg of the chair, feeling pleased at the dull thud and the way the chair shakes from the force. It’s only that’s she’s just _so_ frustrated. It’s as usual for Ethel to ruin her day and make her look bad as it is unusual for Mum to miss her call or make her wait.

Sighing heavily, she gets so caught up in the thwack of her heel against wood that she’s startled when Mum appears suddenly in the glass.

“That seems rather unfair to the chair leg, don’t you think, Millie-Love?”

“Mum!” Straightening she grins, only to be startled for a second time. “You’re wearing your favorite dress - are you going out somewhere?”

Mum looks rather flushed and Mildred studies her more closely. “And are you wearing _makeup?!_ ”

“Nevermind that now - I want to hear all about you, Mildred. How was your day?”

Flopping back into the chair Mildred tugs at a braid, twisting it around her fingers. “Ethel Hallow is a nightmare.”

“Still giving you trouble, is she?”

“It wouldn’t be another day at Cackle’s if she wasn’t.”

She looks back up at Mum and wishes she could reach through the mirror for a hug and a cup of tea made only the way that Mum can make it.

“Oh, sweetheart. Isn’t there a teacher you can tell? This has been going on for so long now -”

But Mildred vigorously shakes her head. “You know it only makes things worse.”

“I know,” Mum sighs. “And you still don’t want me to -”

Mildred shakes her head even harder.

“It doesn’t seem right, Millie.” Mum studies her through the glass. “You are happy, though? At Cackle’s? You’d tell me if you wanted to come home?” Pausing Mum leans forward a little more and Mildred notices she’s wearing her best earrings. “Or if you wanted to go to another magical school?”

Once more Mildred shakes her head. “I want to stay at Cackle’s. I like it. I do. I like my friends, and the classes, and the teachers. Well, most of the teachers. It’s just -”

“I don’t like to see you being bullied, love.”

Suddenly Mildred is sniffling and swipes at her eyes with her sleeve.

“Oh sweetheart.”

“It’s just that everyone else is so far ahead. And Ethel is just so _mean_.”

“Oh, Millie. Are you sure you don’t want - “

“I’ve got to deal with this  on my own. Please, Mum? And I got nearly top marks in chanting last week. I know I can be a good witch if I just work at it.”

Mum sighs, her eyes crinkling up fondly. “You’ve always had that spark of perseverance in you, ever since you were only little. Should have seen yourself when you were learning how to walk - nothing could have stopped you.”

She sighs. “Top marks or not though, love, you see the world with kindness. And you’ll get far on that. Much better to keep on fighting when you’re beat than to be the one putting another down. I’m so proud to be your Mum, Millie.”

It’s even better than one of Mum’s cup of tea, the warm feeling that expands through her chest as they smile at each other through the mirror.

“Thanks, Mum. Miss you.”

“I miss you, too. You’re lovely.”

There’s a knock at the door of Mum’s flat and Mildred suddenly frowns, once again taking in Mum’s nice clothes and blue eyeshadow.

“Speaking of _lovely_ -”

“Oooh, best run, Mildred.”

“But Mum -”

“I’ve got to answer that.” Mum looks very flustered all of a sudden. “Listen - there might be more of a solution to all of this than we think. We’ll talk soon, yeah? In the meantime, don’t lose faith in yourself, Mildred. Listen to that little voice inside you, right?”

“Mum -”

The knock comes again and Mum’s on her feet leaning in the end the call.

“Love you barrels and bunches - got to dash!”

“Mum!”

The glass goes dark and Mildred sits for a moment stunned at a sudden though flashes through her head.

Does Mum have _…._ a _date?!_

______

Rushing, Julie curses just a bit under her breath as she struggles to slip into her shoes on the way to answer the door. She pauses to give herself a moment to rake her fingers through her curls before throwing it open to reveal -

An enormous stack of books.

“What on earth have you -”

“Well, it’s about time. I thought you’d never answer. Here -” The pile shifts and Julie suddenly finds herself with an armful - a very heavy armful - which lightens slightly as Pippa picks up the top half back up and greets her with a bright smile. “Thought my arms were going to drop off.”

“And you didn’t think to use magic? Even Millie knows the Levitation Spell.”

“Neighbors.”

Pippa follows her back into the flat kicking the door shut behind her.

“And yet you didn’t think to disguise titles such as _Coven on Fire: 100 Methods For Bonding Wayward Witches in Sisterhood_ or _Witchcraft: A Beginners Guide to Spell Theory_?” Julie puffs, dumping her stack onto the kitchen table as Pippa follows suit.

“Could be a recreational interest. It’s not like I look like a witch.” Pippa brushes her hands together and winks, laughing as Julie looks over her pink jeans and cream cardigan before pulling her into a hug.

“No, you certainly don’t.”

“How are you? How’s Mildred?”

“Ugh, Mildred, only just got off the mirror with her, poor thing. But if we’re going to talk about “wayward witches” I’m going to need a stiff drink, that’s certain. Let me get my coat.”

She ducks into the bedroom. “Are you going to let me drive?” Pippa calls after her.

“Are you going to stop for the light instead of magicking it green in your favor? You know I taught you better than that.”

Pulling on her coat she returns to in time to see Pippa’s cheeky grin. “I suppose I had better, hadn’t I. After all, that is the point of this arrangement, isn’t it? Swapping knowledge to further our own agendas.”

They make for the door and Julie links her arms through Pippa’s. “Well, that and the fact that we seem to have become friends.”

Pippa laughs again and grins up at her. “So you _are_ going to let me drive? As my friend?”

“You’re incorrigible, Pentangle. Fine.” They part for the elevator and she tosses Pippa her keys. “But you’re going to have to magic yourself into something a bit nicer. If I’m going to take you to your first jazz club, you need to look a little more -”

“Jazzy?”

“Bewitching.”

When they exit the elevator Pippa is in heels and a dress they are still laughing.

______

They stay out late and the club is bordering on quiet by the time the topic is brought back to Mildred.

“I just don’t know how to help her,” Julie says, stabbing at the cherry in the bottom of her drink with the cocktail pick. “She doesn’t get down easy, my Millie, and that’s a fact. It’s hard to see her struggling - and in a place where I’m more of a novelty than anything useful to her. What do I know after all? I’m just an non-magical mum.”

Pippa leans an elbow on the bar and turns to frown at her. “You are so much more than that. If all parents had your interest and care for their children, I dare say we’d have much less of a problem to contend with here.” She reaches out and taps Julie’s knee. “You know the Hallow family has a great deal of influence in the magical community - especially in education. And I’m sorry to say Ursula Hallow seems to have a stranglehold on that school.”

Behind them the band starts playing a late night tune and Julie leans in closer to be heard. “I do wish she’d consider coming to yours. More students like her, more guidance. None of this stuffiness about who your parents are or how far back you can trace your family’s magic.”

“She will always be welcome at Pentangle’s, you know that. But if she says she wants to stay at Cackle’s -”

“I know. I know. I just wish there were a way to help her. Funny, how your Miss Hardbroom is rather keen on _the_ _rules,_ until it comes the that Hallow girl.” Julie drains her glass and winces. “Sorry, I know you two are friends - “

“You could hardly call it that these days.” Pippa fiddles with the stem of her wine glass and looks unhappy. “And she’s hardly _my_ ‘Miss Hardbroom.’”

“She still isn’t returning your mirror calls?” Pippa shrugs and seems to hunch slightly, suddenly different in mood than the typical _joie de vivre_ that Julie’s come to expect from her. “It seems whatever reasons she had for ending our friendship in the first place are still coming between us. If I only knew why she - well. Nevermind all that. This is about Mildred.”

She sighs and runs a hand through her long blond hair.  “I can hardly believe Hecate would condone the actions of a classroom bully -  she’d hex me for telling you - but she was no stranger to being on the receiving end of that nonsense in our own school days.”

Julie stares at her. “Well. That certainly explains a few things.”

Shrugging, Pippa gives a ghost of a smile and studies her nearly empty glass, as if memories of times long gone by are collected at the bottom. “Let’s just say that Hecate and Mildred are more similar than I think she’s willing to admit.”

She glances over at her and suddenly laughs. “Don’t look at me like that. Underneath that batlike exterior there’s a tender heart.” Her eyes return to her drink and Julie can just catch the glisten of tears against her lashes as she blinks. “Or, rather, there used to be.” Julie watches her as she smiles that secretive little smile again and when she looks up once more her eyes are very bright. “There still is. I’m sure of it.”

Leaning in Julie bumps their shoulders together. “Oh, Pentangle, you’ve got it bad.”

Pippa drains her glass in a gulp and returns it to the bar with a thud. “Oh, Hubble. You have no idea.”

______

Hecate Hardbroom has a pounding headache. It’s centered directly behind her right eye and worsens the longer she stares down at the crumpled sheet of paper in her hands. The parchment is identical in every way to the twenty copies she’d distributed earlier that day, aside from one single line of instructions that seems to have vanished from the page and the name _Mildred Hubble_ written in loopy letters in the upper corner.

_Of course that’s why the girl’s cauldron had refused to be within five feet her. Absence of ground badger claw will do that._

She clenches her fist and curses herself, an uncomfortable pricking along her spine at the realization of the trickery that had occured right under her nose and her own part in playing right into it.

Sighing she smooths the paper flat and sets it on her pile of finished grading. She’ll have to have words with Ethel tomorrow. _Though it hardly will matter._

Head throbbing, she crosses around and settles behind her desk, pulling out her maglet and opening her messages. She’s writing before she even has time to consider holding herself back.

_Perhaps it is the anonymity of our situation that makes me more forthcoming, but I feel as if I can confide in you. I am not one to disclose my private thoughts and certainly never my failings, you see. And as unconventional as this correspondence may be, I rather like to think that we have become more than simply strangers who met on a maglet forum and something rather more akin to confidants. Or friends. Though I must tell you, I do not have many of those (most likely for the very reason mentioned above). And as difficult as it is to write this, I feel a peculiar urge to confess to you an event that came to pass this afternoon._

_Without revealing any of the personal details we strive to avoid, I must admit to making a rather grave error. Today I accused a person, one who looks to me for support and guidance, of a misdeed they did not commit. The individual in question has a history of making thoughtless mistakes, and I assumed the worst without investigating further. I’m afraid I responded quite harshly. Now I have discovered that this individual was setup to fail by another party. And yet, despite my personal feelings on the matter, the true instigator will face little more than a small reprimand. Unfortunately, my hands are tied from taking actions that would result in any sort of real justice (this being due to matters regarding the status of the transgressor. But that is as much as I can say on the topic)._

_Still, I feel that I am failing them both by breaching Section Two: Subsection C of The Code. Both are junior witches and I have a responsibility to ensure that they each continue to develop in their Craft. But how can I when one violates The Code so blatantly without consequence? What type of example am I able to set when I too am in violation by enabling these misdeeds and thus harming the innocent party?_

_I realize that the catalyst for our correspondence stemmed from your desire to debate various interpretations of The Code with a peer as passionate about the betterment of The Craft as yourself. But tonight I find myself rather less of an expert and rather more in need of your advice._

_Code_Consultant_

Sighing, Hecate scrolls up the maglet screen and writes StarWitch5 on the top before tapping the device three times. The message sends and she leans back in her chair chagrined. It still feels foolish to send these letters, but for the past six months StarWitch5 has more of an companion than she’s ever managed to have in the course of her life.  

_Except for Pippa._

She pushes that thought down, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Her feelings for Pippa have hardly changed. Even after thirty years. Especially after thirty years. And Pippa’s sudden presence back in her life has also brought the return of long suppressed emotions. _Not to mention desires_ , she thinks darkly, flushing in the dim light of the potions lab as uneasiness courses through her.

No, it’s best she keep her distance. Pippa hardly needs such a dark stain on her perfectly pink life - another thing that remains unchanged it seems despite the passing of the decades. It won’t do to spend more time with her than necessary, not when every interaction makes Hecate’s heart stutter, and trip, and ache. And now there’s something about the anonymous witch on the other end of her maglet that makes her feel that same feeling - like the earth is slanting rather strangely beneath her feet at the mere thought of their correspondences.

 _It could be anyone, you foolish witch_ , she chides herself. _If it gets to be too much, simply abandon the magletname and no one need ever know._

It is a comforting thought. Still, it doesn’t change the warm feeling that blossoms in her chest each time the name StarWitch5 flashes across her screen.

Groaning she buries her face in her hands before tucking the maglet under her arm and transferring to her chambers. She performs her nightly bedtime routine on autopilot, mind churning through the events of the day, jaw clenching each time Mildred Hubble’s troubled face appears behind her eyes.

It’s late - later than she should have retired - but she finds herself too out of sorts to sleep and settles down instead in the bed with a large and terribly dry volume about the various uses of rodent teeth in Level XII potions. The minutes seem to tick by and she can’t help but be a little embarrassed by how quickly she summons her maglet when it chimes from the next room.

Wide awake, she props herself on an elbow, heart fluttering in anticipation at the words on the screen.

_Code_Consultant,_

_I apologize for the late hour of this reply. I received your message upon returning home and I knew I simply must reply immediately. I do hope you are not sitting up tonight torturing yourself over this matter. A good night’s sleep will surely serve you well in the day that is to come._

_If it is advice you seek, allow me to offer my thoughts on your situation. Perhaps it might be best to first and foremost make amends with the wrongly accused. You write that you’re not one to disclose your failings, but perhaps doing so will only serve to ease your dismay about the events that have come to pass. And though I do not know the full context of the matter, I do believe doing so would uphold your obligation to S7SsC, in addition to  assuaging the uneasiness seems to weigh heavily upon you. Though I also believe that you reacted based on the information presented - and that is merely a human response not a condition of your character (or else you would not be writing to me out of concern, you see?). If the offending party cannot be brought to justice, as you say they cannot be, it will surely do the wronged individual a great deal of good to know that they at least do not remain falsely accused._

_Secondly, generally what I have found to be true of individuals of status is that often their disruptive behavior often stems from a place of malcontent. Perhaps discovering what motivates this behavior will be of aid in addressing it in a manner that avoids public reproach. And potentially alleviates the source of their trouble all together. Especially since you write that the individual is a junior witch - there’s still time to course correct!_

_It’s grown very late so I will end with this: I too have come to value these messages and I’m honored that you’ve felt you can share with me._

_Your Friend (and yes, I would be very pleased to call you a friend),_

_StarWitch5_

Hecate lets out a slow breath and sets the maglet on the bedside table before disarming the light. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth and she settles under the blankets, eyes suddenly quite heavy.

She falls asleep and dreams in pink.


	2. Chapter 2

She is determined to have a better week. So far she’s even succeeding.

For one thing, Miss Hardbroom actually _apologized_ to her about the incident with the Repelling Serum after their last class. Her normally pale cheeks had turn bright red and she’d sputtered and halted all the way through so Mildred knows that it’s heartfelt.

It’s enough to buoy her spirits - that and the fact that Miss Hardbroom also lets her redo the potion rather than attend a detention. And Mildred gets an entire eighty-seven percent which is _so much better_ than naught percent. She can’t wait to tell Mum.

She and Enid whoop and bounce and Miss Hardbroom’s eyes raise so far up to the ceiling that Mildred worries briefly that they’ll get stuck there. But still. She _did it_. An almost perfect Summoning Spell. And now she’ll never forget the ingredients to a Repelling Seum either. It’s a thought that she decides she should keep to herself though when she turns and is met by Ethel’s sour gaze from where she sets up her cauldron on a nearby table.

It almost feels as if today luck is on her side. Like maybe, just maybe, she’s closer to being a Real Witch after all.

Until it all goes terribly wrong.

They’re supposed to be brewing a Basic Healing Salve but the instructions suddenly seem inscrutable to Mildred. It’s a level up from their normal potions and there’s so much stirring and counter-stirring she’s worried she’ll lose track. Her mind keeps wandering to what Mum must think of magical medicine, wondering how this is different than an Ordinary salve. Still, she thinks that she’s getting it right. It’s the same deep ruby as Muad and Ethel’s. All that’s left for her to do is add the final ingredient: Breath of a Witch.

Inhaling deeply, she leans in so that her nose is nearly in the cauldron, before letting all the air out from her lungs. It catches in the steaming mist, swirling down, down, down, and she sits back to give the final stir, waiting for it to turn a deep, pure gold.

Instead she’s met with complete disaster.

Her cauldron once again flies from her workbench but this time with great force. She opens her mouth the call a warning but it’s too late -  the cauldron barrels into Felicity knocking her hard to the stone floor, potion splattering all over her. Large boils bloom over her skin and she clutches at the arm she’d thrown back to break her fall, crying out in pain.  

Mildred at her side in an instant, stammering out apologies and waving her hands in an attempt to vanish the potion, but they’re shaking rather too much for any effective spell to leave her trembling fingertips.

“Mildred. Hubble.” Her heart flies further up her throat and she cowers where she kneels on the cold stone next to sobbing Felicity. “To the infirmary Miss Foxglove. Our nurse will put things right.” She waves her hand and Felicity winks out mid sob. Mildred scrambles to her feet.

“W-will she be alright? I didn’t mean to - honest Miss Hardbroom -”

“Silence.” Miss Hardbroom is paler than even normal and she’s taking long deep breathes through her nose. Through her panic Mildred wonders if it’s possible to for a witch to be part dragon. The thought vanishes as a cold hand grips her upper arm and she’s suddenly transferred to Miss Cackle’s office.

Stomach churning, Mildred chokes out several more apologizes, only to fall to silence when she realizes Miss Cackle in nowhere in sight. Miss Hardbroom, however, looms above her, and Mildred squeezes her eyes shut.

“Are you calling Miss Cackle?” She manages, opening her eyes as Miss Hardbroom stalks across the room to the large mirror and summons a chair.

“Miss Cackle is an important meeting with The Council today and is not to be disturbed, Mildred Hubble. I will be the one deciding your fate.” She revolves slowly on the spot until she’s facing Mildred again, her eyes narrow in displeasure. “Now sit.”

On shaky knees Mildred moves to the chair, shivering as Miss Hardbroom remains standing behind her. She watches in the mirror as she snaps her fingers sharply and the glass begins to swirl.

“Who are you - ?”

“You’re mother.” Miss Hardbroom manages to make it sound like a threat and Mildred swallows anxiously as the mirror clears and reveals -

Mum and Miss Pentangle sitting together on the sofa at home, Mildred’s baby pictures strewn out between them.

“Mum -?”

“Mildred?”

“Miss. Pentangle.”

Everyone speaks at once, expect for Miss Pentangle who seems to have forgotten she’s holding up a picture of a three year old Mildred dressed as a witch for Halloween. She simply stares at them for a moment before saying brightly, “Hello, Mildred! Hecate.”

Behind her Miss Hardbroom bristles. Mildred can feel the tension coming off her her in waves, but is too distracted by the way Miss Pentangle is wearing a large multi colored sweater of Mum’s, not to mention _jeans_. And looking at her _baby pictures_.

Mum leans in towards the mirror frowning. “Millie, is everything alright, love?”

But Mildred can only gasp, looking from Miss Pentangle to Mum and then up at Miss Hardbroom who looks like someone has doused her in cold water.

“You’re dating _Miss Pentangle_?!” Mildred blurts out, eyes wide and heart pounding.

Behind her Miss Hardbroom makes a noise like a teakettle but Mum and Miss Pentangle laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

“What’s so funny,” Mildred finally interrupts, feeling rather cross. It’s enough that she’s in major trouble, but she doesn’t like feeling as if she’s missing what must be a rather good joke.

“I’m sorry, Mildred,” Mum says, dabbing at her eyes. “It’s just - “ She laughs again and Miss Pentangle does as well, only to break off suddenly, looking rather dismayed. Her eyes stare out through the mirror, but she’s not looking at Mildred, and when Mildred raises her eyes back up she’s never seen Miss Hardbroom’s face look so stony before.

She must _really_ be in trouble.

“If we are all done with Miss Pentangle’s _love life_ ,” Miss Hardbroom says, voice deadly soft, “then I rather think we should proceed to discussing the fact that a student has been injured as the result of Mildred’s negligence once _again_ in the potions lab.”

Miss Pentangle flushes pink and her eyes narrow, but after a moment she leans in and looks at Mildred in concern through the glass just the same as Mum.

“Millie - what happened.” Mum is looking rather worried and Mildred wants to cry.

“I don’t know, it was an accident - I swear -” She doesn’t want Mum to be angry with her, and certainly doesn’t want Miss Pentangle to think less of her either.

She thinks of Felicity covered in the potion and her stomach twists in worry.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone - really. It was going so well - my potion was the same as everyone else's, and then suddenly my cauldron exploded after I added Breath of a Witch - “

“Breath of a Witch?” Miss Pentangle is looking at her rather intently.

“Yes I -”

“Mildred, did you by any chance try blowing into your cauldron?”

“Yes?”

Miss Pentangle leans back and crosses her arms, staring at Miss Hardbroom through the glass. “Hecate, perhaps it’s best if you stop lurking behind Mildred like that and have a seat.”

Miss Pentangle takes a deep breath and suddenly a chair revolves in the air beside Mildred’s before dropping to the floor with the thunk. Miss Hardbroom sputters but Miss Pentangle merely stares harder. “Some tea too, I think.” She looks very focused for a second and a teatray and a plate of iced biscuits arrive with a pop, the frosting glistening invitingly.

“A seat, if you, please, Hecate.”

Mildred can’t help think of a windup toy as Miss Hardbroom rounds the chair and sits, her entire body stiff, a muscle twitching in her jaw.

“What’s going on?” Mum is still frowning, looking between the three of them. “What’s this Breath of a Witch got to do with the accident. Is the other girl going to be alright? Mildred, are you alright?”

Mildred nods hurriedly at her as Miss Hardbroom says icily, “Miss Foxglove has been sent to the infirmary and shall recover in due time. The priority here is that Mildred Hubble has yet again put herself and her classmates at risk - “

“She used her _own breath_ , Hecate - surely you can see what is going on here?”

Miss Hardbroom inhales sharply through her nose at the same time Mildred and Mum say in unison, “What is going on here?”

Miss Pentangle sighs, her eyes resting on Miss Hardbroom’s face before meeting Mildred’s again through the glass.

“Mildred, what do you know about the properties of Witch’s Breath?” Mildred shrugs, her head starting to ache a little.

“Mmmm. Right. Mildred, when Breath of a Witch is used in a potion, it’s a pre-bottled ingredient. The potency of the Breath of a Witch is dependent on the power of the witch who breathes it - but potions ingredients are rather finicky  as I’m sure you’re finding out - so it’s fairly regulated. Each bottle has just the right power called for in a potion so that the result is universal.

“Everybody knows _that_.” Miss Hardbroom snaps.

“I don’t.” says Mum.

“I didn’t know,” Mildred hates that her voice trembles slightly. Hates that she is so near tears.

Miss Pentangle smiles at her, her voice gentle. “I’m not surprised. It’s common knowledge for those who grow up in the witching world. But you’re an exception Mildred. You grew up without this baseline knowledge of how things work. And by the reaction of your potion, I’d say that you’re exceptionally powerful to boot. Only the first bit is something that needs solving.”

Once again her eyes flit over to Miss Hardbroom but then return and Mildred’s struck by the warmth in them. “It can’t be easy, can it, to feel like you’re at a disadvantage just because you come from a different background.”

Mildred hangs her head.

“I know Miss Hardbroom is highly dedicated to the success of her students and I’m sure that as her apprentice, you’d begin to pick up these things in no time. You’re a very bright young witch, Mildred.”

Mildred’s head snaps up.

“Apprentice?” Miss Hardbroom’s voice is very strangled, like she’s chewing on glass.

“Don’t you think that’s the ideal solution? Mildred needs a guide in the ways of the magical world. And who better to teach her than someone as dedicated to The Craft as yourself.” Miss Pentangle smiles sweetly.

Mum is still looking between them all only now she seems about to laugh. “Yes, that’s right,” she leans in again, her smile every bit as sweet as Miss Pentangle’s. “How kind of you to offer, Miss Hardbroom.”

“I never offered -”

“I’m sure Mildred will benefit greatly from everything you can teach her. After all, you are rather an expert in The Code, I hear.”

Miss Hardbroom continues to sputter.

“Three lessons a week should probably get you off to a good start, shouldn’t it.” Miss Pentangle looks between the two of them and after a few moments Miss Hardbroom ducks a curt nod.

“Well, that settles it,” Miss Pentangle exclaims. She suddenly seems to realize she’s still holding the picture of baby Mildred. She holds it up and Mum takes it from her, eyes soft.

“See you’ve always been a witch, Millie-Love. Ever since you were tiny.”  Miss Pentangle and Mum share a secret smile that has Mildred suddenly returning to her initial question.

“So you _are_ dating?”

Miss Hardbroom makes the sound like she’s grating glass again and Miss Pentangle flushes deeper than ever.

Mum smiles, her voice gentle, “No, sweets. You know I’d tell you if that were the case. We’ve always agreed to that. Miss Pentangle and I have just become good friends. She’s been teaching me how I can best support you in the magical world, and I’ve been helping her learn some basics so she can better service her non-magical students and their families.”

“Friends,” Mildred repeats, looking at Miss Pentangle. “But you’re wearing Mum’s sweater.”

“I was cold.” Miss Pentangle grins. “I forgot to pack a sweater for the drive down.”

“Drive?” For a moment Mildred had forgotten Miss Hardbroom was beside her, she’d been so still and silent. She’s staring at Miss Pentangle now, a bemused look in her eyes.

“She’s really gotten quite good,” Mum says, a note of pride in her voice.

Miss Pentangle blushes _again_. And Mildred suddenly realizes that she’s staring at Miss Hardbroom and Miss Hardbroom is staring back and neither of them are saying anything but it’s almost as if there’s a whole conversation going on and she’s missing out.

Sneaking another glance at Miss Hardbroom she’s unsurprised to see her jaw is clenched determinedly, but is surprised that her eyes are oddly wet. And Miss Pentangle scarcely seems to be breathing.

She looks between them again. And again.

And _oh._

She looks at Mum instead, nearly giggling when Mum rolls her eyes.

And then she and Mum are having their own silent conversation, Mildred raising her eyebrows in an _are you serious_ , and Mum responding with another eyeroll and a waggle of her own eyebrows. She has to clap a hand over her mouth then to hide her laughter and Mum grins through the glass at her.

Still, her motion seems to break the spell and Miss Pentnagle’s eyes drop. She smooths her hands over her knees nervously before smiling again.

“I’ve procured a maglet for your mum, Mildred.” She holds up a hand to stop the protest before it can leave Miss Hardbroom’s mouth. “It isn’t fair that all the other students can write to their parents whenever they like. Mildred shouldn’t get any less support because of her situation.”

Mum smiles. “Write me after your lessons with Miss Hardbroom.” She fixes Miss Hardbroom in a stare. “I’ll want to know how you are progressing.”

Mildred feels her heart lightening.

“So I’m not in trouble?”

“That’s not for us to decide, it’s really up to Miss Hardbroom.” Miss Pentangle’s eyes now join Mum’s and beside her Miss Hardbroom’s spine becomes more rigid than ever.

“An essay on the properties of Witch’s Breath. We will commence your apprenticeship next week.” The words seem as if they’re being pulled from her one by one.

Miss Pentangle claps her hands. “Excellent. Well, now that that’s settled, we better dash. Your mum is taking to me to a yoga class, Mildred. We’re considering offering it as an extracurricular at Pentangle’s next semester.”

Miss Hardbroom makes a sound and after a moment Mildred realizes she’s trying to scoff out the word _'yoga_ ,’ but it’s doesn’t seem to fit right in her mouth.

“Sounds great.” She smiles brightly and Miss Hardbroom closes her eyes for a moment as if begging for patience. “I’ll talk to you soon, Mum.

“Kisses and hugs, Millie. Study hard.”

“I will.”

The call ends and she and Miss Hardbroom sit for a moment in awkward silence until Miss Hardbroom rises and faces her.

“If you are to be my apprentice, Mildred Hubble, I expect you to work very, _very_ hard at it.”

They transfer suddenly and Mildred realizes that she must be in Miss Hardbroom’s private chambers. The room is spare aside from a few severe looking chairs, a spindly sofa, a pristine desk, and a heavily laden bookcase. Miss Hardbroom crosses and waves her hand, books sliding out to stack in Mildred’s arms.

 _‘Introduction to Witching Culture’_ and _‘One Hundred and One Uses for Witch’s Breath’_ and several volumes all with various titles like _'Well Met: A Guide to Witching Etiquette_.’  Mildred’s nearly sagging under the weight as Miss Hardbroom snaps her fingers and one more volume appears, brightly colored and smaller in size. Mildred squints down at it, eyes nearly crossed at how close it sits to her nose, and reads _'Coding for Kids: The Cliff Note Guide to All Things Code!’_

She raises her eyes back up to Miss Hardbroom who sniffs.

“A bit of bedtime reading, Miss Hubble.”

Mildred smiles weakly up and her.

“I expect your essay on Witch's Breath by class tomorrow. Five hundred words explaining key concepts, precautions, and uses. Read the first chapter of each of the references I have have provided. Be in my office after dinner on Monday at seven o’clock sharp. Do not be late.”

Mildred rushes to nod.

“Now go.” She flicks her fingers and Mildred finds herself back in her bedroom, the books spilling from her arms onto the bed. She stretches, trying to work feeling back into her hands, before flopping down as well, arm across her eyes.

She’s just thinking she should get up and check on Felicity when her maglet chimes. Rolling over onto her side she grins when she sees it’s from Mum.

_Are you alright?_

She quickly picks up her pen and writes,  _Yup. Got a lot of reading to do._

And then,  _When were you going to tell me you’ve been hanging out with Miss Pentangle?_

_Oh, your old Mum likes to have a few secrets. I wanted to impress you a bit with my magical know-how. I’ve got a lot of reading to do, too._

_Introduction to Witching Culture?_

_Read it last week. Rather liked the chapter about traditions. I think you will too._

Heart busting, Mildred grins. _This is going to be awesome. Can we do some of them together maybe?_

 _You bet your broomstick on it_.

 _You have been hanging out with Miss Pentangle too much._ She laughs and can almost hear Mum laughing too. She bites her lip and then writes,

_What’s going on between Miss Hardbroom and Miss Pentangle? I thought they were friends again but it seems like they might be fighting. Except...I kind of think they like each other?_

_You think? You could have lit a cauldron with the looks those two were giving each other!_

_Mum, you’ve reallyyyy have been hanging out with Miss Pentangle too much._

_Sorry._

_Don’t be. It’s the bats. So they do like each other? Like, LIKE, each other?_

_It’s really not my place to say, Millie._

_I have eyes, Mum._

_Oh alright, they’re being simply ridiculous if you ask me._

Mildred flips onto her stomach so she can write better, burying her face in her pillow for a moment to laugh with glee.

_Mum, don’t you see? We gotta help get them together._

_I don’t suppose we ought to meddle._

_But they liiiiike each other. And the last time they didn’t speak for thirty years. That’s so many more years than I am old. A lifetime! Plus, I think sometimes Miss Hardbroom might just be a softie inside. She’s terrifying, but sometimes I think she doesn’t want to be so cross all the time. I like her._

_Now who sounds like Miss Pentangle._

_Mum!_

_Well, it’s just the facts._

_We got to do something. You work on Miss Pentangle and I’ll work on Miss Hardbroom. You’ve got a maglet now so we can compare notes._

_I’m pretty sure your maglet is to be used to academic purposes. And I’m pretty sure I let you watch The Parent Trap a few too many times._

_Ha. Ha. Mum. So...are you going to help me?_

_I suppose it can’t hurt to try to nudge them a bit. Though I’m afraid you’ve got the harder end of things._

_That’s okay, I don’t mind hard work._

_I know you don’t, Sweets. No go get a headstart on your reading. You let me know if there’s any trouble._

_Mum, it’s me. There’s always trouble, I’m a Hubble._

_That’s my girl. Now go._

_Love you._

_You too. Xoxo._

She flips onto her back and grins up at the ceiling. Miss Hardbroom and Miss Pentangle. In _love_.

Miss _Hardbroom_. In _love_.

It’s a fair trade she reasons, Miss Hardbroom will teach her how to be a better witch, and she’ll help her with Miss Pentangle in exchange. She smiles as she rises and heads for the hospital wing to find Felicity.

The trick, she decides, is to not let Miss Hardbroom know she’s doing it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hecate hears Pippa in her head and half blesses her, half curses her. _She wants to learn from you, Hecate. There’s so much you could teach her, so many ways in which you can help her understand her powers._
> 
> Her fingers twitch and she wonders how Pippa has always understood her better than she sometimes understands herself. How Pippa could look at Mildred and see just what she needed, and look at her, Hecate, and see that maybe, just maybe, she needs this too.
> 
> She thinks of Broomhead and is suddenly very determined to do better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Thanks for your lovely comments so far, they made me really happy. :)
> 
> There's some mild blood imagery in here (not one of our characters!) so maybe a light tw for the squeamish. I love dark fairytales and it it's all coming out in this fic :P

It takes hours before she’s calm enough to make the call. She’s been avoiding having to cast this very spell for weeks - months even. But now hot outrage surges through her making her skin prickle and her face hot. And she knows she will not rest tonight until she looks Pippa Pentangle in the eye and demands to know why in Merlin’s name she thinks an _apprenticeship_ _with_ _Mildred Hubble_ bears any semblance to a good idea.  

With shaking fingers she flicks the spell at the mirror only to grit her teeth when the glass simply swirls without response. Huffing, she bites down harder, the movement in the glass mimicked by the uneasiness in her stomach. Just when she fears her jaw with lock in place for good, the misty whirling stills, though the mirror’s surface remains dark and inscrutable.

There’s a shuffling, a lot of statistic, a _‘Hang on a sec, Hiccup_ ,’ that makes her heart flutter unexpectedly, before a small light is switched on and Hecate takes in a very sleepy looking Pippa.

In a dinosaur patterned t-shirt.

Holding a knit sock monkey.

The room is rather dim and Pippa rubs her eyes, her hair tousled and tangled around her shoulders. Watercolor paintings are taped ad hoc to the walls and Hecate feels a surge of - well - _something_ deep within herself at the realization that Pippa is sleeping over in Mildred Hubble’s childhood bedroom.

 _Hubbles,_ she fumes. _Hubbles everywhere._

“Sorry about the wait, was just pulling you up on my mobile mirror - is everything all right? It’s practically the middle of the night.”

Pippa looks so concerned, and so beautiful, and for some reason it makes Hecate even angier.

“All right? No, I dare say everything is not _all right_. That stunt you pulled this afternoon - _me_ \- take an _apprentice_ -” The words tangle in her throat and she takes an unsteady breath.

Pippa frowns and moves closer into the mirror’s frame. “It wasn’t a stunt. You two are much more compatible than you perhaps realize.”

“You believe me to be compatible with a girl who hardly knows one end of her broomstick from the other?”

“A girl who has immense power - Hecate - how else would she have caused that reaction in the lab today? She _needs your help_.” Pippa’s frown deepens and Hecate grimaces then sniffs.

“A school like Cackle’s is no place for her.”

“I’ve offered her a place at Pentangle’s - you know I have. But she wants to stay at Cackle’s. She wants to learn from _you_ , Hecate. There’s so much you could teach her, so many ways in which you can help her understand her powers.”

“She has no control.”

“And as I recall, nether did you.” Their eyes meet through the mirror and she feels her cheeks burn, anger flaring to mask vulnerability.

“You just don’t know when to keep your nose out of it, you never did.”

Pippa’s eyes narrow but her voice remains even. “What’s that supposed to mean? I merely thought that it would be a good idea for both of you -”

“You merely thought? Just like you thought about waltzing in here with your Modern Magic Workshops and your Super Head grab for power - “

Pippa gasps. “Grab for power? Hecate, what -”

“Why is it, Pippa, that you always seem to insert yourself when you’re not wanted.”  The words tumble from her and she doesn’t think - doesn’t even _think_ \- before she says them.  

Pippa’s face goes very stoney and the air between them seems to burn with sudden cold.

 _No. No, Pipsqueak -_  

She can barely get the words out. “I meant in your meddling with the Hubbles this afternoon.”

“I know very well what you meant.”

Her heart feels like it’s going to crack within her chest, and Pippa won’t meet her eyes, and suddenly she doesn’t feel angry at all. Wonders how she could have felt angry with Pippa about anything ever. Wonders why she always has to push Pippa away like this. Rebuke her like this. _Hurt_ her like this.

“Pippa, I -”

“I take your meaning. You’ve made yourself very clear in the past. I just haven’t been listening, have I?”

Pippa’s fiddling with the sock monkey and Hecate feels like she’s back in the freeze after the loss of the Founding Stone. She can only watch, helpless, as Pippa sits on the other side of glass - there - just _there_ \- but suddenly so far away. So distant. And it’s all her fault.

“I still think you should apprentice Mildred.” Pippa looks up then and her eyes are fierce, hard in a way Hecate’s never seen before. “I can’t say I won’t _meddle_ as far as that girl is concerned. She deserves better, Hecate, and I believe you know it. But as for my _‘inserting myself where I’m not wanted,'_ ” her voice turns to steel on the last word and Hecate feels like she’s moved outside her body, feels like she should scream, and beg, and wake from this bad dream rather than simply sit frozen in horror, “I suppose it’s a lesson it’s high time I learned.”

Pippa leans in to end the mirror call, and Hecate can only whisper a desperate _‘Wait,’_ to the darkening glass, too low to be heard below the sound of Pippa’s soft, _‘Goodbye, Hecate.’_

And then she is gone.

______

Pippa doesn’t know how long she cries. Only that at some point Julie comes in and strokes her hair like she must have stroked Mildred’s a thousand times in this very room. Only knows that she calls Hecate Hardbroom at lot of rather bad names, and Julie uses some very choice words about _that Miss Hardbroom_ as well, stopping when it only makes Pippa cry harder still. Because she doesn’t believe them to be true. Doesn’t _want_ them to be true.

She just wants to know _why_. Why thirty years ago Hecate brushed her off as if she were no more than a speck of dust from her hem. Why the girl who used to help her sneak advanced spell books out of the library, who had held her hand sometimes under the stars, who had whispered _‘you’re my very best friend,’_ more times than Pippa can count, has grown into a woman who sneers at her, who discounts her, who _despises her_.

Perhaps it’s because Hecate hated breaking the rules, she whimpers into Julie’s dressing gown. “She’d tease me a bit, and insisted that she’d hex me if we got caught, but she’d also used the books with me to learn advanced theories that the spell science teacher wouldn’t teach us. Maybe I pushed her into it and she didn’t actually want to help sneak the books out.”

“Doesn’t sound that way to me, love.”

Pippa sniffs back tears, “What if I pushed her into holding hands, too? What if I thought it was just a normal thing to do and she didn’t? What if she realized how I felt and that’s why she h-h-hates me?”

“She held your hand back didn’t she?” She nods, miserable.

“And did she ever take your hand herself?” The tears come once again and Pippa can’t help the warmth that flutters in her heart at the memory of Hecate’s cold, thin fingers brushing over hers on the nights they snuck up to look at the stars together in their youth. Tentative and uncertain until Pippa had inevitably flipped over her palm and Hecate had twined their fingers together.

“I always supposed it was just a school girl thing.”

Julie snorts.

Pippa doesn’t know what to make of memories where Hecate’s eyes glow both shy and bright, her lips tugging up slightly as they close around the words _‘my very best friend_.’ She takes a tissue from Julie and blows her nose instead.

“Cup of tea, I think,” Julie murmurs, shifting Pippa off her shoulder before rising. “Back in a pop.”

Pippa stares at the ceiling and listens as Julie moves around the next room, switching on the kettle and pulling out mugs. It’s very late. Her head pounds and her eyes burn.

Flipping onto her stomach she reaches under her pillow and tugs out her maglet.

_Dear Code_Consultant,_

_Now I’m the one who has had an awful day (no details of which I can share, of course) and could use a distraction. Writing to you always cheers me. If we’re to be friends, and already I feel as if we’re very old friends, I don’t suppose there’s any harm in knowing more generic things about each other, is there?_

_I’ll go first: what is your favorite time of day? Perhaps you’ll think it a silly question, but I’m sure you will not have a silly answer. I’ll give you a hint...mine is NOT three in the morning! I hope you, at least, are sleeping._

_Your friend,  
_ _StarWitch5_

She switches off the maglet as Julie returns and they sit side by side against the headboard, sleepily sipping camomile. Julie looks over at her in worry. “Thirty years is a long time to carry a torch, love.”

Pippa shrugs. “I tried to move on. Never worked out. Never wanted it to work out, really.” She buries her nose in her cup and inhales the warmth. “Just didn’t think I was still waiting. Until recently.”

Julie squeezes her knee. “Been lucky, I suppose,” she murmurs into her teacup. “Only ever had the type of broken heart that passes along with youth - never had one that didn’t heal with time and distance.”

“What about Mildred’s father?”

“Oooh, he was a lovely man. I was a bit wild in my younger days, traveled bunched, went round with a caravan of folk. Wanted to see the world, I did.” She smiles and her eyes crinkle up. “Fancied Mildred’s dad quite a lot but we were only passing through - and he was only in town to see friends as well, see. By the time I realized I was going to have a baby, I wouldn’t have known where to even look to find him.”

“And did you look?”

“I tried at first. But when there was no luck I put it behind me, settled down to build a life for Millie, tried to do right by her.”

Pippa reached out and squeezes her elbow. “You know that you have?”

Julie shrugs. “Hasn’t always been easy, but I wouldn’t change any of it for the world. Neighbors around here were a blessing after me mum died and my sister moved north and there was no one to watch Millie when I went to night classes. And we’ve done all right - muddled through where needed, celebrated were we could. Hasn’t left much time for romance though.”

Pippa grins and it feels strange after so many tears, but welcome nonetheless. “And now? With Mildred off at school?”

Julie rolls her eyes. “A school that’s adding up the grays on my head with every passing day?”

“Don’t change the subject.” She prods at her side until Julie swats her hand away.

“Well I did have a dance with that gym teacher up at Cackle’s on Halloween.” Pippa gasps and turns on the bed. “You didn’t say - !”

“I’m allowed my secrets, aren’t I?

“No.” She smiles. “Dimity Drill is a massively respected flier. I’m sure she’d take you for a ride on -”

“Bed.”

Julie snatches away her teacup and stands, glaring down at her playfully. “Not another word. Lights out, you. _Sleep._  Wearenotdiscussingthis.”

Pippa slides down into the bed and pouts a bit. “You’re not getting off easy.”

“You _know_ I’m not. Haven’t for over 12 years.”

“Oh god.”

“Bed.”

They’re laughing so much now that Pippa’s suddenly sniffling again, overwhelmed by the wild spectrum of emotions the night has brought. She puts a hand over her eyes and half-laughs, half-weeps.

“Oh, sweets. Try to sleep.” Julie’s eyes are kind and worried and Pippa pulls up the blanket to her chin and nods.

“Morning is always a little brighter, that’s what I always tell Mildred.” She makes for the door and her hand goes to the lightswitch. The room goes dark, lit only by the crack of light from the hall that silhouettes Julie in the doorway.

“Julie?”

“Mmm?”

“You’ve done a wonderful job with Mildred. Never doubt that.”

“Thanks, Miss Witch. And thanks for all your help today. That Hardbroom clearly doesn’t see what’s under her nose - not when it comes to my Millie, not when it comes to you.”

Pippa sniffles a little again.

“Get some sleep.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night, sweets.”

Curling around the little sock monkey, Pippa closes her eyes and tries to sleep.

______

It’s been over a week and Hecate’s skin feels like it’s stretched too tightly across her frame, her bones hollowed out, her heart leadened, and yet it's not a weight enough to moor down a stomach that dips and eddies every time she thinks of Pippa. Thinks about what she’s done.

 _It’s for the best_.

The mantra rings through her head, rings through her dreams. It keeps her up at night.

But it isn’t for the best. Has never been best.

Best would be Pippa. Best _is_ Pippa. By her side. In her life. In her bed.

Shoving aside her dinner she stands, departing the dining hall and materializing in the potions lab where she preps for her forth lesson with Mildred Hubble, thoughts still racing back to Pippa.

She can never have best. Can never, ever, have best. Not when the closer she wants to be to Pippa the more she pushes her way. Not when her fear drives her to say such callous, thoughtless things.

And, really, she thinks as she busies herself with crushing spine of a raven in a fine power, Pippa is far safer if she thinks Hecate hates her. Far, far safer than knowing she loves -

 _No_.

No, her thoughts cannot go there now. Now when Mildred Hubble is set to arrive any moment with her clumsy fingers and her hopeful eyes.

It’s the least she can do to do this for Pippa. And for Mildred too, she grudgingly supposes, weighing the raven spine before filtering into into a small jar. But if this act, this _apprenticeship_ , makes Pippa at least in any way a little happy, then it will be worth it.

She dusts her hands and circles around her desk to review what they’ve covered so far: Witch’s Breath and Well Mets and a dozen tiny spells and details that Hecate never remembers learning, always seems to have known. Like breathing.

And she does breath. In and out, and in and out, to calm her nerves. She’s never been good at one-on-one interactions, never has felt comfortable with the silence, or the situational intimacy, or the expectation of conversation. _Except with Pippa_.

The thought gets pushed down and she makes a few notes in the log book she’s made to track their sessions. It has surprised her how inquisitive Mildred is durning their lessons together. How the girl is less distracted and has greater focus. She rarely gets it right on the first try but merely shakes her head and redoubles her efforts, determined in a way that Hecate realizes she’s failed to note in the girl before.

 _Perhaps it’s the absence of Ethel Hallow_.

She’s just straightening her notes when Mildred enters, the customary one knee sock falling down into her skinny leg into her boot, braids swinging, eyes curious.

“You are one minute late.”

Mildred tugs at a braid and ducks her head. “Sorry, Miss Hardbroom.”

“Sit.” She points to the chair before her desk. “We’ll begin by reviewing Sections 1 through 7 of The Code.”

Mildred sits, straight and alert and when she leans forward Hecate is suddenly reminded of Pippa in class, so eager to learn, so hungry for knowledge. Once more she pushes away the emotion that bubbles up with the similarity and forces herself focus on the task at hand instead.

They work through the sections, Hecate asking questions and Mildred answering, prompting her when she struggles and empelishing when needed. It gives her a headache, to focus this way, to apply this much patience to what should be commonplace. But Mildred does well and she finds that every correct answer does bring her an unexpected surge of satisfaction.

“And Section 7,” Mildred is saying, ticking it off on her fingers. “That’s what happened with Agatha on Selection Day.”

She looks anxious for a moment and Hecate sighs. “Ask your question, Mildred.”

“It’s just,” She pauses and shifts in her seat, eyes uncertain. “Taking a witch’s power, even by a duel, isn’t that a conflict to Sections 1 and 2?”  She feels her eyebrows jump up her forehead but before she can think of a retort Mildred hurries on.

“It’s just that Section 1 states that a witch must not use spells for personal gain. So how can witches duel in the first place and not violate The Code? They’d need to cast spells to try to win wouldn’t they? And isn’t that doing exactly what Section 1 says not to do?” Hecate feels her jaw fall open but Mildred keeps going undeterred.

“And if The Code says in Section 2 to never harm another witch, why does a Section 7 allow for a losing witch to have her power takens by the witch who wins? Even if it’s not physical harm, it’s still harm, isn’t it? Look at Esmeralda - she was so lost without her powers. And not that I think Agatha doesn’t deserve to be punished - she’s very wicked, isn’t she - but it’s just that surely a duel is won by a witch’s skill alone - rather - r-rather than justice or any other merit, isn’t it? Isn’t there some other magical justice system? Maybe a kind of court of law?”

Hecate finds herself breathing heavily through her nose. “The Code _is_ the law, it governs all.”

“So that’s it? That’s justice?” Mildred anxiously taps her fingers against the arm of her chair, a line appearing between her eyebrows.

“Yes, it is justice. If you wish to be a witch, Mildred Hubble, you must respect our laws, you must respect The Code.”

Mildred stamps her foot a little. “But that’s not good enough! What if we hadn’t tricked Agatha? What if she had kept Miss Cackle as a mollusk and taken over the school - how is that _justice?_ How is what happened to Esme justice?” Hecate can only stare at her, mouth half open, eyebrows arching in consternation.

“And why can’t you just disable a witch’s power? Why take it when it can’t ever be given back?” Her voice trembles a little. “Section 97 says never to remove a part of a witch - but isn’t removing a witch’s magic wrong then? Isn’t magic a part of what makes a witch, well, a witch? How is that not a violation of The Code - Miss Hardbroom - what if The Code is wrong?”

“Enough!” She’s on her feet in an instant, nails digging into her palm. She tries to control her breathing. Tries to control the fear that comes whenever her mind touches on the idea that the very system that upholds her life is certainly a flawed one. But it’s more than that. It’s a threat from long ago, from a teacher long ago, that echoes through her mind. Broomhead, a whisper in her ear - _if you don’t behave, girl, don’t learn control, I will strip you of your magic, pare you down until you’re nothing, nothing_.

For without magic, she _is_ nothing. She thinks of the loss of the Founding Stone and can almost feel the ice against her spine once more.

“It’s just,” Mildred whispers, “I’m afraid I’m not enough of a witch and if I don’t learn fast enough they’ll take my magic.” It comes out very fast though Mildred’s voice is quiet and Hecate feels her knees fold. She sinks into the chair stares at Mildred in utter alarm.

Resisting the urge to shiver, she presses her nails into her palm, seeks that _control_ and curses Broomhead. Curses herself. Unexpectedly aches for Mildred who looks up at her from her seat and who suddenly seems very small, very young.

“Why in Merlin’s name would you believe that, Mildred Hubble?”

Mildred picks at her nails and says to the floor, “You’re always saying what a danger I am if I can’t learn to control my magic. I’ve already hurt Felicity, haven’t I? What if I don’t have enough magic in me to make me a Real Witch and everyone thinks it’s better if I give it up entirely? Ethel keeps saying that’s what‘s going to happen to me - that they’ll come and take my magic because I’m not really a full witch. And isn’t that what you want? For me to go home and give this up?”

_Oh._

Heartbeat in her throat, Hecate looks across at the girl and feels hot, sick shame well within her.

“No, Mildred.” She says softly and finds herself leaning in until Mildred looks up and meets her eyes, her stomach clenching in dismay at the tears that cling to Mildred’s lashes. “No. If you recall, your Breath of a Witch fiasco was a result of an excess of power, not the converse. That’s why you are my apprentice. That’s why we shall meet thrice a week until you are able to handle the amount of power you possess, until you can cast a spell perfectly without thinking anything of it, until magic is as second nature to you as breathing.”

Mildred’s eyes are suddenly bright and hopeful. “Like the way you do?”

And Hecate hears Pippa in her head and half blesses her, half curses her. _She wants to learn from you, Hecate. There’s so much you could teach her, so many ways in which you can help her understand her powers._

Her fingers twitch and she wonders how Pippa has always understood her better than she sometimes understands herself. How Pippa could look at Mildred and see just what she needed, and look at her, Hecate, and see that maybe, just maybe, she needs this too.

She thinks of Broomhead and is suddenly very determined to do better.

Mildred’s still looking at her expectantly and she closes her eyes for a moment before clearing her throat as her hands come up to stack her papers just a little more precisely in an effort to buy herself time.

“Nobody is going to take your magic, Mildred. Not while I am Deputy Head of this academy, not so long as there is air in my lungs. You are my apprentice. And if you will work hard, I will personally train you into one of the best witches of your age, is that understood?”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom.” Mildred’s eyes are very wide and Hecate fights the urge to smile, fights down the strange bubble of hope that crowds her chest, pushes down on the fear that lingers in the spaces between her ribs. Looks at Mildred and for the first time sees _potential_ ratherthan simply _potential for catastrophe_. Sees her as if through Pippa’s eyes.

“Then it’s settled.” She rises again and gestures Mildred up. “You ask very astute questions regarding The Code. Not every society is perhaps as evolved as it should be, I suppose. And it would appear that the witching world is no exception. Come.”

She flicks her fingers and they appear in her chambers and she heads back to the bookcase. “There’s a collection of essays regarding the history of The Code you might find lend insight into why the document is written the way it is, why some Sections appear in conflict.” She plucks a tome off the shelf and flicks it through the air into Mildred’s hands. “It’s rather dry reading I’m afraid, but I dare say it will be better for both of us if I stop underestimating you, Mildred Hubble.”

She makes sure to give a rather severe look to cancel out any grin that threatens to break across Mildred’s face. “Read what you can and we shall discuss at next week’s lesson.”

Mildred nods hurriedly, braids akimbo, and Hecate pauses, waits. Because there’s still a hesitancy behind Mildred’s eyes.

“On Selection Day, you asked Maud if she was questioning The Code because of my mistake with Ethel’s pondweed. And then - and then - Miss Cackle said that only a _Real Witch_ would know to uphold The Code and to use magic with caution, which I hadn’t. I’m only just learning now. How can I be a _Real Witch_ if I don’t know all these things? Are witches born knowing them?”

Mildred looks up at her with wide brown eyes and yet again she feels her heart squeeze up far too tightly in her chest.

“No,” she says jerkily, and crooks a finger so that the armchair behind Mildred scoots forward and Mildred tumbles into it. “No, it’s rather something your mother teaches you.”

“But my mum - “

“Yes, your mother is non-magical and thus ill-equipped to imbue you with knowledge of The Craft.” She returns to the bookshelf.

“Miss Pentangle is teaching Mum though - not magic of course, just everything about magic. She wants to be able to understand - “

Hecate’s finger slips on one of the books, knocking the volume at an angle and she straightens it along with her own spine, ice in her veins. “If Miss Pentangle thinks that’s wise.”

“I’m glad she’ll learning,” Mildred says from behind her, and Hecate can hear where her boot scuffs at the carpet. “Perhaps - perhaps we can all have lunch some time - you, and me, and Mum, and - and Miss Pentangle!”

Mildred’s voice is so hopeful and Hecate tries not to wince. Instead she keeps her eyes trained on the bookshelf. “Perhaps when pigs fly without magical assistance, Mildred Hubble. We are here to focus on your mastery of magical knowledge, not how well you are supported in your home life.”

She thinks suddenly of Ethel Hallow and bites back another wince. Thinks of her anonymous correspondence and her advice on how to redirect Ethel’s anger. She sighs. _Perhaps home life is important, perhaps that’s the root of this all._ She tucks away the thought to return to later and redoubles her efforts at the bookshelf, fingers stroking down spines, searching until she comes to a worn, leather-bound volume.

Pulling it from the shelf she lets her eyes fall shut for a moment, let’s herself fall into a hazy memory at the feel of the binding beneath her fingers, the smell of the book so dear to her. It’s half-formed, barely there - the memory - this book - her own mother. A mother that’s merely a vague wisp of dark hair, a gentle voice hallowed in lamplight. And a face that Hecate cannot, no matter how she tries, remember.

She clears her throat and turns, crossing to the chair across from Mildred and sitting stiffly.

“What’s that? A book of fairytales?”

Hecate sniffs. “Hardly anything as foolish as that sort of drivel, Mildred Hubble. These are _The Witch's Tales_. Every child reads them. Every child knows them. They’re the first point of entry to a witch has to magic. Loathed as I am to teach you children’s bedtime stories, they are very ancient, very arcane, they are often considered foundational to the witching experience. Perhaps there will be merit in you knowing them.” She cracks open the spine and stares down at the page.   

And begins to read.

Hands shaking slightly against the pages at the idea of reading to the audience before her, she wills herself not to flush at how awkward and how staccato her voice seems, how foreign the long forgotten words feel in her mouth.

Still, she bears on with grim determination as she begins to read aloud about a witch, Althea, who wanted the moon, who desired it above all else. How Althea had spent night after night gazing skyward, desperate for a glimpse of the pale and ever changing orb, how she’d longed to hold it in her palm.

As she reads further, she finds the words come more easily, her voice rising and falling over the same words her mother once read, as if the long forgotten memory somehow serves now as her guide.

She reads how Althea had discovered a spell, most ancient and most secret, said to grant her her heart's desire if only she risked the sacrifice. And how Althea, desperate as she was for the distant, mysterious moon, had cut the hair from the head of her beloved sister, Amaris, while she slept.

_“This will do the trick,” Althea whispered letting the silver blonde locks slip through her fingers into the cauldron. “Hair to match the moon, from my most beloved here on earth. Surely this is gift enough to call down the moon into my arms.”_

_But it was not. And the next morning Amaris woke weaker than she had been the day before, her spells lacking their usual power, her face pale and wan no matter how she turned her cheeks to the sun._

_And still the moon did not come down._

_The next month, Althea grew more desperate. “Perhaps the Moon desires not shining hair, but arms instead, a tribute to know how I shall embrace her upon her arrival, how I will hold her and keep her safe.” And so Althea cast a spell to keep Amaris deep in slumber and cried as she cut both arms from the body of her sister, so desperate was she to have the moon._

_Into the cauldron went Amaris’s arms and the potion hissed and spit, turning so silver that for a moment Althea believed it was the moon itself and rejoiced. But it was not the moon. And the next morning Amaris woke and wept. “Althea, why have you done such a thing?”_

_“I desire the moon, dear sister, I wish to hold her in my arms. I wish to be near her always.” And Amaris wept all the more for without her arms she could no longer cast spells, or warm her hands by the fire, or brush her shorn hair which no longer grew. But she loved Althea and so she hid her tears._

_And still the moon did not come down._

_The next month, Althea looked up at the full moon and wept anew with longing. “Please,” she begged, “please come down and sit beside me. Please, be my companion, be my love.” And the ancient spell called to her, called her to, called to her, whispering sweet promises of her heart’s desire until she could resist no further._

_“I’ve given you long, silver hair so I can brush it from your eyes, dear moon. I’ve given you the sweetest arms I know, so loving is their embrace. What more can I give but legs - legs with which to walk forever by your side, to keep your company always and forever?”_

_She moved towards where Amaris lay sleeping and in her haste forgot to cast the spell to keep Amaris in her slumber. She cut a pale and slender leg from her body and weeping all the while carried it to the cauldron. Blood streaking up her elbows, blood upon her chin, into the cauldron Althea gave the the leg of Amaris, who woke and cried out from her bed, “Why sister, why have you taken my leg? Why have you taken my arms? Why have you shorn my long, silver hair?”_

_And as the potion spit and roiled, Althea looked across the room and saw Amaris’s face, round and pale like the moon. Sweet and lovely and mysterious. And suddenly Althea realized that Amaris’s happiness was all her heart desired._

_But Amaris’s eyes fluttered shut, her blood cooling against Althea’s fingertips as she hurried to her side. Hurried on trembling legs to to stroke her hair, and hold her in her own two arms. But robbed of her arms, and her leg, and her hair of head, Amaris’s tender spirit left her body and departed to the realm beyond._

_And still the moon did not come down._

Hecate’s voice feels rather hoarse from the long reading and she shuts the book, the thump echoing through the room. There’s silence except for the ticking clock and Mildred’s breathing as she stares at her, eyes very wide. “Woah.”

“Yes. Well.” She clears her throat and rises, curling her fingers until the door swings open.

“That will be all for the evening. We shall reconvene tomorrow to cover Chapter Four of your Elementary Potions Manual.” Mildred’s still staring and Hecate gently sets the book on her desk before gesturing her up.

“Also be sure to review the proper etiquette and fail-safes for for joint spell casting, it will be best if you come prepared with examples of spells where joint casting is recommended. You can find them in - she flicks her wrist upwards and ‘ _A Guide to Spell-Casting: Volume III’_ zooms from the shelf into her hand - “in here.” She hands the book to Mildred and they look at each other for a moment.

“You are dismissed.”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom.” Mildred accidently curtsies and Hecate bites down hard on a laugh. She rolls her eyes instead.

“Goodnight, Miss Hardbroom.” She trips a bit on her way out the door and Hecate signs, rubbing absently at her forehead as she spells the door closed and moves to sink into the chair behind her private desk.

 _That girl will give you grey hairs,_ she murmurs to herself and then snorts.

For a moment she merely sits, lost in her thoughts, before a chime comes from within her desk and she pulls open a drawer to retrieve her maglet, heart skipping when she sees the message alert.

_Code_Consulant,_

_Hi there! Thank you for the much needed distraction the other night. I have to say, I’m not much of an early riser, but the way you described the rosey pink and golden light of the sunrise was so beautiful that I set an Alarm Spell and woke at the crack for dawn this morning to see for myself. Alas - rain! Perhaps I shall chance a Weather Spell to clear away the rather dreary clouds we’ve had so often of late._

_And to return to you an answer, I would have to say that my favorite time of day is the moment when the first stars come out. That magical time when the sky is inky black above but still rather a rather intense deep blue along the horizon. Most people who know me would be surprised by this preference - I suppose they’d rather expect me to choose the sun. But there’s something about the evening - the rise of the moon and the way the stars peak out as if they’re shy but bravely choose to come out each and every night all the same - that is very dear to my heart._

_I’m glad you’ve indulged my game of questions and have sent one of your own along. My favorite thing to do in the rare moment when I have a moment to myself - I work rather a lot you see and time to spare is limited - is to go on a long flight to clear my head. Or to curl up with my familiar and a good book (would you judge me if I tell you my guilty pleasure is frivolous romance? Oh dear, I rather fear you would. But they have to be well written and they simply must only be about witches. Now I’ve revealed a bit more to you than you surely intended me to, but I have a feeling you’ll judge me more harshly on the reading of romance novels in general rather than my choice of romantic subject)._

_Please write soon and tell me a guilty pleasure of your own._

_Swift Spells,  
_ _StarWitch5_

Blushing furiously, Hecate sets aside the maglet and contemplates the ceiling for a bit. _Romance novels. Witches!_

She doesn't know why she wants to smile and forces her face into a more stoic expression, though there’s not a soul around to bear her witness. She also doesn’t know why she stays up far too late penning a reply, or why she admits to liking such self-indulgent pleasures such as pressing flowers simply because they’re pretty to look at and not because they useful. Or why she admits to often reading a collection of love letters between an Ordinary couple - writers named Vita and Virginia - which she’d inexplicably found one day in a used magical bookshop. _No matter how many hundreds of times I read their letters, each time I’m moved anew. It’s not like me at all_ , she writes, _I’ve never told a soul about such a thing._

When she finishes and finally looks up, the night has grown dark outside the window, a cobalt band of blue visible just along the horizon.

It matches the inky hues of her dress perfectly and she smiles.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes less than one minute of Miss Hardbroom and Miss Pentangle being in the same room together for Mildred to realize how much harder tonight is going to be for her grand romantic scheme.
> 
> Instead of taking one look at each other and falling into each other’s arms like she’d imagined, Miss Pentangle hardly looks at Miss Hardbroom at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwhahaha. Me again, back with TWO more chapters. Whew. This chapter was so fun to write. I hope you enjoy. Thanks again for the continued support! <3

The next morning at breakfast, Mildred slides onto the the bench next to Felicity, undeterred when she’s met with a huff and an eye roll.

“What do you want, Mildred?”

“I need your help with something.”

Felicity looks at her over her spoon of oatmeal and shrugs. “Does it involve an exploding cauldron?”

“No,” Mildred blushes a little but continues on determinedly. “I talked to Maud, who talked to the Esmerelda, who got all the Head of Years in on making a Suggestion Box. After everything that happened with Miss Cackle and with the Founding Stone morale has been pretty low, hasn’t it? I thought it could use a little boost.”

“So?”

“So,” she drags the word out and grins, “I was hoping that you’d write in and suggest that Pentangle’s come to Cackle’s for a joint Christmas - I mean _Yule_ \- Ball. I figure if we both put in the same suggestion, the more likely it will be to happen.”

Felicity’s cool demeanor vanishes as she hurriedly swallows her porriege, her eyes suddenly very wide. “Pentangle’s - _Miss_ Pentangle - here? For a _dance_.”

Mildred nods.

“Just think about what she’d _wear_ \- oh she’ll look so glamorous. Isn’t she the most beautiful witch you’ve ever seen?” Felicity gazes dreamily at the ceiling, her spoon drooping sideways and Mildred’s grin widens.

“So, you’ll do it?”

“Hm? Oh. Where’s the box? Let’s go right now. Maybe I can get Ethel to write in as well." Felicity wrinkles her nose as she says it. "But she might just write _frogspawn_ and ruin it all, so maybe not.” Mildred laughs and Felicity shoves a few more bites of breakfast into her mouth. “Can you imagine? Miss Pentangle - here for a dance!”

They rise and Mildred recounts how she’s gotten Sybil and her friends to write in as well, plus Maud and Enid.

“That’s seven of us so far - a lucky number. They’ll have to at least consider it.” Felicity all but race walks over to where the Suggestion Box sits in the corner of the dining hall and Mildred skips along beside her, fingers crossed, her mind whirling with possibilities.

______

_A Yule Ball, love?_

_You don’t think it’s a good idea?_

_I think it’s a lovely idea. But you know I told you that things haven’t gone very well between them lately. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up - or their hopes up._

_You mean Miss Pentangle’s._

_Maybe. She’s invited us for Yule, did I say?_

_You didn’t - and she did?_

_Her parents left her a cottage and she thought we might like to come up there for the holiday seeing as your Auntie won’t be making it down this way this year. Thought maybe having a proper witching Yule would be good for you - I know we’ve talked about getting a little more witch-itional about holidays._

_Witch-itional! Mum, stop, I’m laughing. And sorry we won’t see Auntie May, maybe we can visit her over summer? I’d love to go to Miss Pentangle’s for Yule!_

_Excellent, I’ll set it up._

_Tell her thank you?_

_Will do. Millie-love, you know I want to see those who stubborn witches happy same as you, but be careful where hearts are concerned, eh?_

_Don’t worry, Mum. Trust me. This is going to work! Miss Cackle just announced the date, the whole school is so excited. Well. Except for Miss Hardbroom. She keeps going on about how balls are undignified, blah blah, but I think it’s only because she’s hasn’t had fun at them in the past._

_Mildred..._

_I know, I know. But Miss Hardbroom says a witch ‘makes things go her way’ soooo. I’m making things go my way!_

_All right, I have to admit I am curious to how this will turn out....anything I can do?_

_Just makes sure Miss Pentangle wears something nice._

_Again, I think you’ve got the tougher job there, love. Miss Pentangle always looks nice._

_You’re right. Do you think I could get Miss Hardbroom to wear a golden dress?_

_Only if you want her to expel you._

_Ha. Ha._

_Listen, got to run to my shift but I’m sending cauldrons full of love._

_Mummmm._

_I know, I know._

_Love you, too._

_XO._

______

Mildred can’t believe it’s really happening, can’t believe her idea has actually _worked._ She and Maud and Enid and Felicity spend the morning of the ball helping Miss Bat and Miss Drill hang garlands and streamers all around the hall, and Mister Rowan-Webb teaches her a nifty little variation of the Weather Spell that will make a small snow cloud appear above them for a light dusting.

She practices on Felicity who twirls in the icy powder, braid swinging around, her eyes very bright.

“I can’t wait for this evening. Miss Pentangle will look so gorgeous. I hope I look gorgeous too, I’ve been working on my dress for a _month_.”

The spell runs out and Felicity collapses dizzily into Mildred giggling. “This more than makes up for you exploding your cauldron over me - this idea is the bats, Millie.”

Enid bounces over and grins. “I heard they’re bringing a chocolate fountain in 'specially for tonight.”

“Well, _I_ heard that Miss Tapioca isn’t doing the catering, so the food will actually be edible!” Maud sighs in blissful anticipation.

There’s a snort behind them and Mildred looks over her should to see Miss Drill ducking a grin. Their eyes meet and she winks at her.

They finish up with the decorations and head back to their rooms, the buzz of the girls in the hallways exchanging hair ribbons and jewelry further fueling Mildred’s excitement.

She waves goodbye and dashes the rest of the way down the hall, hardly able to keep in the squeal of glee that burst from her and she twirls around her room, nearly as giddy as Felicity.

That is until her maglet chimes.

_Potions Lab, Mildred Hubble. Now._

She frowns. She doesn’t have a lesson with Miss Hardbroom today, and it’s growing very close to the start of the dance so she hopes it won’t take long. Signing, she trudges back down the hall, past the masses of giggling, bouncing girls, wishing very much she could join in their revelry and not feel like she’s about find out she’s in trouble.

But when she gets to the lab, Miss Hardbroom doesn't mention a detention, or a low score on a recent quiz, or or how she accidentally came to spill rat’s brains down her front during class yesterday. Instead she busies Mildred with pressing the juice from large hyacinth beans, as if today were just any other lesson.

She presses the beans with a sharp knife, wincing as the bulbous, violet pods stain her fingers dark purple, and watching Miss Hardbroom from the corner of her eye where she works across from her measuring iris seeds into tiny vials.

“Erm. Miss Hardbroom?”

“Mildred.”

“We don’t have a lesson today, do we? I thought we were done for term.”

Miss Hardbroom does not reply and when the silence stretches out for long enough Mildred realizes she does not intend to.

“Miss Hardbroom - there’s the ball tonight -”

“We shan’t be attending any ball.” The words are clips and Miss Hardbroom puts so much dinstain into the world ‘ball’ that Mildred’s heart sinks in her chest.

“But Miss Hardbroom -”

“There is no need to attend something as frivolous as a ball when there’s work to be done.”

A bit of juice from the purple pod shoots out and splatters across Mildred’s face and she shrieks.

Miss Hardbroom remains focused on her task but her fingers curl and Mildred feels the splatter dissipate and protective glove appear on her hands.

“But I really think we should -”

Miss Hardbroom sets down her vial with a thunk. “Miss Hubble -”

“Miss Hardbroom -” Mildred mimics her and Miss Hardbroom blinks in surprise. They stare at each other and Mildred feels herself growing very bold, though her heart trembles beneath her jumper.

“Yule is more than just a celebration of the shortest day of the year, it is about celebrating the light and warmth of magic and the anticipation of the return of the sun.” It’s practically a summary of the description of Yule in _‘Introduction to Witching Culture’_  and Mildred smirks as Miss Hardbroom recognizes it.

“It is important to honor the sun’s journey back to us in its orbit. It has both astrological and cultural significance. And as a witch who has never experience Yule, much less a Yule Ball, it’s import to my education that I spend this evening with my peers.” She imitates Miss Hardbroom’s very strict teacher voice, careful not to exaggerate it least Miss Hardbroom think she’s being mocked, but well enough to get her point across.

Miss Hardbroom stares at her, eyebrows high, mouth slightly open.

“Besides, don’t you have to chaperone? There will be _boys_  here tonight, after all.” Miss Hardbroom’s mouth snaps shut and she looks furious at the thought of _boys_ in the castle.

“We are going to the dance.” Mildred pulls off her gloves and sets them on the table. She squeezes her eyes shut very tightly and suddenly the pods are in a small glass jar, ready to be juiced later. Turning on her heel much more bravely that she feels, she heads to the door, pausing in the threshold. She turns back, narrowing her eyes at Miss Hardbroom who still hasn’t moved.

“You should probably go change in your gown. I'm going to. After all, it's  _Yule_.”

She pulls the door shut on Miss Hardbrooms shocked expression and sags against the wall, sweat prickling at her hair line.

It takes her a moment to collect herself, her heart racing in her chest, before she realizes the time and bounds off to collect her dress, skidding down the hallway into Felicity’s room where they’ve planned to dress together.

Waving off the concerned questions about her tartiness, she plunks down and let’s Felicity cast a nifty spell that makes her hair curl and sit on top her her head in a way she thinks makes her look rather grown up.

Palms still sweating, she takes a deep breath. Nothing’s going to stop this night from being a success. She’s certain of it.

______

Except that Mum has not been exaggerating.

It takes less than one minute of Miss Hardbroom and Miss Pentangle being in the same room together for Mildred to realize how much harder tonight is going to be for her grand romantic scheme.

Instead of taking one look at each other and falling into each other’s arms like she’d imagined, Miss Pentangle hardly looks at Miss Hardbroom at all. She greets the staff warmly, a kiss on the cheek for Miss Cackle, warm Well Mets all around, but when she reaches Miss Hardbroom she hardly touches her forehead. Her eyes remain glued to where her students move to mingle with the Cackle’s, rather than meeting Miss Hardbroom's, and she quickly drops her hand and hurries off to shepherd the straggling Pentangle’s boys and girls further into the hall.

Miss Hardbroom’s eyes follow her as she goes, Mildred notes, so at least that’s something.

“I was right. She looks beautiful,” Felicity sighs, coming up beside her and look longingly at Pippa in her long white gown. “I wish I could look as glamorous as that.”

“You look lovely,” Mildred grabs her hand and twirls her, and Felicity squeals as she spins, pink dress flaring around her, hair ribbons fluttering.

“When the dancing starts will you help me with something else? Will you talk to Miss Pentangle and keep her in one place?”

“Me? Talk to Miss Pentangle?” Felicity looks delighted but then frowns. “Why?”

Grinning, Mildred drags her away from the teachers towards the chocolate fountain where Maud and Enid are excitedly filling their cups.

“You’ll see.”

______

It takes her three cups of sugary, hot chocolate before she’s brave enough to attempt her next move. The hall is full and noisy, students and teachers dancing amongst the glittering decorations to the upbeat and festive music Miss Bat pumps out from the organ.

Miss Pentangle is talking with Mister Rowan-Webb who is blushing quite a bit and tugging on his beard. Miss Drill is busy writing something on her maglet while Miss Cackle dances with one of the supply witches.

Her eyes find Miss Hardbroom who stalks around the perimeter of the hall zapping apart any students that dare to dance too closely, a dark scowl clouding her features.

Mildred sighs and drains her cup, glancing around the room to make sure her friends are in place.

She gives the signal and Felicity, Enid, and Maud make for Miss Pentangle and Mister Rowan-Webb and Maud and Enid enthusiastically bump into the spell science teacher, spilling his hot cocoa over him. They gather around to mop at him and apologize, leading him to the edge of the dance floor for more tissues. She watches as Felicity moves in and engages Miss Pentangle during the distraction, pleased that it’s all going to plan. Well, the easy part at least.

Turning, Mildred takes a deep breath and beelines towards Miss Hardbroom. She stops before her and clears her throat, standing up very straight, determined not to blush.

“Miss Hardbroom. Will - will you dance with me?”

She know by now what to expect from Miss Hardbroom’s face when she’s caught off guard, but this truly surpases all of Mildred’s many pervious encounters of dumbfounding her teacher. It’s nearly comical how her face twists and her eyebrows nearly disappear into her dark hairline, but Mildred holds her ground.

“I do not dance, Mildred Hubble.”

“But it’s Yule! Everyone is dancing. Come on -” She reaches out, quick as a flash, and grabs Miss Hardbroom’s hand, flushing at her own daring and how sweating and grimy her palm feels against Miss Hardbroom’s long, cold fingers.

“Mildred Hubble - “

“Dance.”

Mildred pulls her on the floor and is suddenly reminded of watching the national dog show with Mum each year as she pushes and pulls Miss Hardbroom into an acceptable position for dancing. She’s so stiff it’s like her joints don’t know how to bend in a proper fashion, but Mildred determinedly pulls one hand up to her shoulder and takes Miss Hardbroom’s other, pushing on Miss Hardbroom’s waist until she moves backwards with a jerky step.

Pulling her forward again and then side-to-side, Mildred pushes and tugs her into a awkward sort of dance, trying her hardest not to crash them into the other couples. It seems as if everyone around them is having a much easier time of it with their partner. She hardly comes up to Miss Hardbroom’s shoulder and grimaces at the continued look of abject horror frozen on Miss Hardbroom’s face.

“This is most unseemly.”

“It wouldn’t be if you’d just relax a little, it’s like you took a Mummification Potion.”

She pushes on Miss Hardbroom again to steer her backwards across the dancefloor and towards Miss Pentangle a little more.

“You didn’t, did you?”

“I most certainly did not.” But Miss Hardbroom nearly smiles and relaxes ever so slightly which Mildred takes as utter success.

“Your dress is very nice.” She grins up at her, elated at the faint pink that tinges Miss Hardbroom’s cheeks. _Butter her up, that’s it,_  she smiles to herself. _Get her right where you want her, nice and easy._

“Well.” Miss Hardbroom sniffs. “It _is_ Yule.”

But she does look rather nice, Mildred thinks - the simple black dress she wears made rather elegant by how it melts into lace just before her throat. It’s just as "Miss Hardbroom" an outfit as one could expect at a dance, Mildred muses, still smiling up at her. It suits her.

She gives one last valiant effort at steering them and glances over Miss Hardbroom’s shoulder to catch Felicity’s eye.

_Now._

“Mildred! There you are!” Felicity ducks around Miss Pentangle and hovers next to them, “May I - may I cut in?”

She reaches out and takes Mildred’s hand, blushing furiously, and Mildred tries not to giggle at the act. Or at Miss Hardbroom’s affronted expression. She catches Miss Pentangle’s eye only to blush herself at the knowing look that flits across her face as she looks between Mildred and Felicity. _Ugh, grownups._  
   
Undeterred, she keeps her hold on Felicity and tugs on the hand that is still clasped in Miss Hardbroom’s. “Well, why don’t we just swap.”

Felicity reaches out and grabs Miss Pentangle’s hand, and before either of the adults can blink, they have their hands joined. Mildred and Felicity perform a bit of a complicated to twist to extract themselves, twirling away and leaving a very red Miss Pentangle and a very pale Miss Hardbroom in each others arms on the dance floor.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Mildred whispers, giggling into Felicity's shoulder before realizing that it’s the sort of behavior Miss Hardbroom has been zapping students for. But Miss Hardbroom is distracted, staring down at Miss Pentangle with a peculiar look on her face while Miss Pentangle gazes over her shoulder, determinedly studying the wall across the room with the same amount of concentration with which Miss Hardbroom is focusing on her.

Mildred dances them back a bit closer to listen.

“Pippa.”

“Miss Hardbroom.”

Miss Hardbroom winces. Neither of them seem to notice that they’re not dancing, standing frozen together amongst a sea of swaying students. They’re making eye contact now and Mildred can practically feel the weight of unspoked things between them.

 _Are they in love?_ Felicity mouths, her eyes wider than Mildred’s ever seen them. She nods and Felicity's suddenly is blinking back tears.

“Oh, Fliss, I know how much you like Miss Pentangle.” But Felicity’s holding her hand more tightly and Mildred realizes there’s something more behind her eyes.

“It’s not that, it’s just -”

“What is it?” Mildred sways with her and doesn’t let go.

“It’s just I’ve never seen two real witches in love before. I didn’t know it was actually - actually - “

She trails off and looks apprehensive, so different from her usual bubbly confident self. Mildred squeezes her hand and finishes her thought, “Possible?”

“Yeah,” Felicity bites her lip. “You won’t tell will you - that I’m - that I like - that I’m like that?”

“I won’t tell. But I think it’s really cool.”

“You do?” Felicity beams, the tears in her lashes glittering in the fairy lights that float above them.

“Definitely.”

They smile at each other and Mildred realizes that she’s quite forgotten the task at hand, gasping and whirling around. Miss Hardbroom and Miss Pentangle have vanished from beside them and she spins in place until she sees Miss Hardbroom stalking off to the edge of the room before transferring away in a puff of smoke. A flash of white whips around the corner of the doorway as Miss Pentangle ducks out the exit.

“Oh dear.” She keeps hold of Felicity’s hand and tugs. “Come on!”

They dash towards the door and down the corridor.

“Are they - you know - _together-together?_ Are they having a fight?” Felicity pants as they run, her small heels clacking on the stone tiles.

“They are _always_ fighting,” Mildred pauses where the hallway splits and considers it for a moment before choosing the stairs and hurrying down them. “But they love each other so much. They just won’t admit it. They were _best friends_ at school,” she pulls them around a corner, “and then Miss Hardbroom didn’t think she was good enough for Miss Pentangle and _left her_ \- they didn’t speak again until the Spelling Bee.”

“But that was only last year!”

Mildred loses her shoe and they have to backtrack for her to reclaim it.

“I _know_ ,” she pants, pushing her shoe back on with one hand while trying to tug Felicity forward again with the other. “My mum says they’re being _ridiculous_.”

“You’re Mum knows about them?” They dash down the corridor and Mildred directs them towards the door at the end of the hall.

“She’s friends with Miss Pentangle. Miss Hardbroom _hates it_.”

Felicity is laughing, and Mildred is laughing, and they stumble out into the cold air of the courtyard, hair coming down in sweaty strands and cheeks pink.

They stop when the see Miss Pentangle sitting on the edge of the fountain in the center of the cloister and their laughter cuts abruptly in the quiet air. She jumps when she see them, fingers hastily flicking upwards and Mildred watches as makeup suddenly masks the streaks of wet down her cheeks.

“Mildred! And hello again, Felicity.”

They stand awkwardly before Mildred drops Felicity’s hand and moves forward to plop herself down next to where Miss Pentangle had been sitting.

“Merlin, it’s hot in there.” She raises her eyebrows at Felicity who moves and joins her on Miss Pentangle’s other side.

“We thought we’d get some air.”

“Yup,” Mildred stretches out and reaches down to pull up her black sock from where it’s falling down her leg before spreading out her green dress and arranging herself dramatically as she fans herself with her hand.

Pippa looks down at them, her eyes narrowing slightly in amusement and in question and Mildred drops the act.

“We thought you might like some company.”

“Oh.” Pippa blushes and looks chagrined, glancing up at the castle where the sounds from the ball can still be heard.  “I just came out for some air myself.”

“That’s right,” Mildred gestures her down and Pippa sits after a moment. “We’re all just out here getting _air_.”

Felicity giggles.

It strikes Mildred as funny that Miss Pentangle merely rolls her eyes good naturally at them, as if quite used to the antics of students, whereas Miss Hardbroom regularly looks like she’s going to have an aneurysm at the slightest whiff of any frivolity.

“Are you two having a nice dance?” They sneak looks at each other and grin.

“Yup. Are you?” It’s out of her mouth before she thinks and Mildred winces, but Miss Pentangle merely hums and bit a looks up at the sky. “It’s a lovely event. I heard you both were part of the decorating committee. The castle looks wonderful and my students are having a marvelous time.”

Mildred can practically feel Felicity glowing on the other side of Miss Pentangle and smiles.

“We’ve been planning it for nearly a whole month.”

“Have you now?” Miss Pentangle smiles but her eyes crinkle as if she knows rather more about just want Mildred’s been planning than Mildred would like her to. Thankfully, she changes the subject and looks back to the sky. “Would be nice if we’d had a bit of snow, perhaps.”

“Mildred knows how to make a Snow Spell, show her Mildred!”

Blushing a little Mildred rises and recites the chant, her hands waving through the air. Light downy flakes begin to fall around them and Felicity hops up to twirl about in it once more, her feet tracing circles where it gathers on the ground.

Miss Pentangle applauds and cheers and Mildred flushes a bit more. “It’s all thanks to you, really. You’re the one who encouraged me to keep studying when I was trying to learn the Weather Spell. Mister Rowan-Webb just helped me alter it a bit.”

“It’s quite ingenious, Mildred.” Miss Pentangle smiles warmly and reaches out to catch a flake on her fingertip. “And a party is not a party without some fairy lights, is it?” She snaps her fingers and a thousand glowing will-o-the-wisps appear, floating about in the snow above the heads. The light casts soft shadows about the courtyard and Mildred sighs with delight at the enchantments.

“Your dress is the bats, Miss Pentangle.” Felicity twirls and dips about them. “You look just like a snow angel!”

“Thank you. You know you are wearing my very favorite color, Felicity?” Felicity looks like she couldn’t have ask for a better Yule gift and absolutely beams. It makes Mildred smile too.

“Can you teach us a Music Spell, Miss Pentangle? We can scarcely hear it from out here.”

Miss Pentangle nods and they crowd closer, mimicking her words and motions until the music from the hall grows louder and louder with each chant, stopping only when it sounds like the orchestra is right there beside them.

They urge Miss Pentangle up and twirl around her, pulling her into a dance as the snow swirls and eddies in the air. It catches on their lashes and in their hair and they’re laughing and breathless by the time Miss Pentangle suggests they return to the hall so she can check on her students and join them for a last hot chocolate.

Mildred doesn’t say anything about the slim dark figure that watches them from darkest corner of the courtyard. She doesn’t think it’s a bad thing to let Miss Hardbroom watch them having fun - perhaps next time she’ll join them.

And besides, she thinks, as she and Felicity tug Miss Pentangle back into the castle, brushing snow off her as they go, perhaps she’s meddled enough for one night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yule morning dawns bright, the sun reflecting off the snow and casting thousands of diamond like sparkles around the kitchen where they have a long and leisurely breakfast. Mum and Pippa swap section of _The Guardian_ and _The Witching Times_ between them until the papers are thoroughly muddled and Mildred laughs in delight as both her worlds tangle together over toast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 <3 <3 thanks for reading.

Mum has arranged it in advance that she leave with Miss Pentangle that night and stay over at at her school until the morning. She’s a bit hyper from the amount of sugar she’s consumed and from the exhilaration of the evening, and Miss Pentangle makes her a soothing lavender tea when they arrive to warm her up and calm her down for she's talking nearly a mile a minute when they land from the transfer, unable to help herself. They sip their tea and stay up late into the night talking about magic, curled snuggly on Miss Pentangle’s couch in their pajamas.

Mildred can see why Mum likes her so much, she’s easy to talk to, and awfully funny, and always seems to know just want to say to make Mildred feel like she’s swallowed a warm and calming glow. It settles in her chest and she wonders for the millionth time why Miss Hardbroom is so scared of this.

The next morning she’s sleepy and a bit deflated after all the excitement. Miss Pentangle makes her eat a large, healthy breakfast, devoid of sugar in a way that surely would even make Miss Hardbroom proud.

They transfer to Mum’s flat and then Pippa transfers them all to the cottage, laughing when they land in a snowy garden and Mildred shouts in delight.

“We won’t even need the Snow Spell now, will we, Miss Pentangle?”

Mum and Miss Pentangle laugh. “While we’re here you may call me Pippa, Mildred.”

“Really?” She bends and picks up a handful of snow, delighted at the cold.

“Really.” Their eyes meet and glint in silent agreement and Miss Pentangle - no - _Pippa_ \- lifts and eyebrow and ducks to scoop up snow at the same time Mildred pivots and they both nail Mum with snowballs.

“Oy, I’m carrying the groceries. If you lot want to have a proper fight you best wait until - “ Pippa snaps her fingers and the bags in Mum’s arms suddenly disappear.

“Oh, then it is in _on_.” Mum catches her up and shoves snow down the back of her coat and Mildred squeals while Pippa lobs snowball after snowball at them both until they break way and chase after her, shouting and laughing until she turns and magics several snowballs at them at once.

“Cheater!” Mum tackles her. It takes three tries while they’re distracted for Mildred for to get her own snowballs to hover and, just when she thinks she’s got it, a wave of snow rises up and dumps down upon all three of them.

“Oops.” They collapse laughing and make snow angels for a bit until they’re too cold to continue and trudge inside.

Pippa leads her upstairs to a bright room with botanical wallpaper, so real looking it almost seems as if the flowers are alive, and a giant mobile of the solar system that spans across the ceiling. Her bag has already been magicked into the corner and she retrieves it while Pippa produces a towel which Mildred uses to scrub at her snow-damped hair.

“Was this your room when you were young?” She plunks down on the bed and unzips her bag, pulling out dry clothes.

“Yes, it was. Your mum’s in the guest room next door and I’m just down the hall now.”

“I like your wallpaper.”

Pippa grins, leaning against the door frame. “Me too.”

There’s a small photograph on the bedside table and Mildred reaches out and picks it up to study it.  “Is that you?” She frowns leaning closer. “And is that  _Miss Hardbroom?_ ”

Pippa moves over and sits next to her on the bed, taking the picture from her smiling down at it. She looks a little wistful, Mildred thinks, and Mildred bends back in to look down at the two girls in the frame. Pippa is tiny, much smaller than Mildred at nearly the same age, with a wide, bright smile that seems nearly too big for her face. It looks like they’re sitting on the front porch of this very cottage and Miss Hardbroom is laughing in a way that renders her hardly recognizable to Mildred. If it weren’t from the ramrod straight posture and the long dark hair that’s tightly braided into a plait down her back, she might have missed it was her. There’s a basket between heaped with berries and they’re each wearing summer dresses.

She looks up at Miss Pentangle, suddenly feeling teary.

“You look so happy.”

Pippa continues to study the photo. “We were, I think.”

 _You can be again_ , Mildred wants to say, but after last night she’s rather unsure. The Miss Hardbroom’s in the photograph is much more at ease - with her candid laughter and the the flower tucked into her braid ( _surely by Pippa_ ) - than Mildred’s ever seen in life. And certainly more  relaxed than Mildred has presently seen her around Miss Pentangle.

But her mind fills with the sight of them hugging after the Spelling Bee and the small smile on Miss Hardbroom’s face then, how at soft she’d seemed, if only for a moment, in Miss Pentangle’s arms.

She looks up at Pippa uncertainty and Pippa smiles. “Get changed into something warm. We’ll have tea and make some lunch. Maybe this afternoon we can bake a cake.” She hands the photograph back to Mildred and departs, shutting the door softly behind her.

Looking down at the frozen moment in time, Mildred frowns, thinking hard.

She thinks about what little she knows about Miss Hardbroom and what she’s begun to learn. How Miss Hardbroom is often strict and cold with her even though Mildred knows know how invested she is in her future.

She thinks of the tale Miss Hardbroom read her recently of a witch named Nerissa who coveted her magic to such a degree that she never, ever used it. How she held it so tightly within herself that she turned sad and cold and when the time came, when her village was under attack and she called upon her magical gifts for protection, she was no long able to use them - so long had it been since she had tried.

 _Perhaps it’s that way with Miss Hardbroom and love._  She sets the frame back on the side table and sighs. _Perhaps she’s held everything up so tightly inside herself for so long she’s forgotten how to listen to her heart._

Deep in thought, Mildred pulls on a new jumper and jeans. _Perhaps she just needs a chance to learn again._

Mildred suddenly smiles.

_Perhaps._

______

They spend a lovely afternoon watching the snow and drinking tea. After dinner she and Mum teach Pippa to play Monopoly and Mildred can’t stop laughing in disbelief at Pippa’s childlike amazement over the game. Together the finish off a pot of hot chocolate and eventually Mildred’s head is dropping so low that Mum toddles her off to bed.

She falls asleep the quiet voices of Mum and Pippa downstairs, her tummy warm and full as well as her heart.

Yule morning dawns bright, the sun reflecting off the snow and casting thousands of diamond like sparkles around the kitchen where they have a long and leisurely breakfast. Mum and Pippa swap section of _The Guardian_ and _The Witching Times_ between them until the papers are thoroughly muddled and Mildred laughs in delight as both her worlds tangle together over toast.

They prepare for Yule dinner and sing, Mildred in fits of giggles as Pippa dances around the kitchen as she makes buiscuits, singing along to Fleetwood Mac and getting half the lyrics wrong.

“I tried, Millie, honest to God I did, to teach her right. But at least she loves Stevie Nicks, the Patron Witch to us Ordinaries.”

“Nothing Ordinary about you, Mum,” Mildred giggles as Mum joins Pippa, loudly singing over her with the proper lyrics. “I’m getting too old to not be embarrassed by this. But, oh well -” She hops off the counter and joins in, using the ladle as a microphone until Mum laughs so hard she cries and Pippa loses track of time and burns that batch of cookies.

Later when Mum, who has been working a lot of late shifts recently to get the time off, has gone up to nap and Pippa’s busy with the turkey, Mildred borrows her portable mirror and sneaks up to her room.

Miss Hardbroom answers on the fifth chime of the mirror, a frown between her eyes and it takes Mildred a moment to realize she’s not upset but instead concerned.

“Mildred. Is everything all right?”

“Oh. Yes. I just wanted to - to wish you a Happy Yule.”

Miss Hardbroom’s eyes look behind her a moment, widening slightly and Mildred realizes she must recognize the room and she feels herself blush. But Miss Hardbroom’s face softens and she looks through the glass at Mildred, a ghost of a smile flickering across her face.

“Happy Yule to you, Mildred Hubble.”

Mildred recognizes the bookshelf behind her. “You’re still at Cackle’s?”

“I do live here.”

“But -” Mildred frowns. She’s never actually heard Miss Hardbroom mention her family, nor for some reason can she really imagine her with any. She swallows suddenly, throat tight. “You’re - you’re alone on Yule?” The air grows awkward and Miss Hardbroom sniffs sharply.

“I prefer a quiet holiday.”

It’s a lie, and Mildred can read it easily as one, but Miss Hardbroom is trying so hard to smile that Mildred very nearly feels like her heart might crack.

“Oh.” She shuffles around on the bed and tries to think of what to say next.

“We didn’t cover traditions yet - I read them in my book but it's not the same. Can you walk me through the Yule ceremony?”

Miss Hardbroom blinks at her and Mildred blushes a little to now be the one caught in a lie. They both know very well that Miss Pentangle is more than willing and able to teach Mildred what she’ll need to know. But still, it’s worth it to see Miss Hardbroom look almost pleased and they spend the better part of the hour discussing the history of Yule and the execution and theory of the ceremonial Yule spells.

Eventually Mildred hears Mum stirring in the next room.

“I better go, Miss Hardbroom. But thank you, and Happy Yule.”

“Happy Yule, Mildred Hubble.”

Mildred smiles and waves, ending the call and then sits very still for a few minutes staring at the frame on the beside once again.

Suddenly decisive, she stands and quietly moves to the hall, knocking on Mum’s door and pushing it open.

Mum is sitting up in bed yawning a bit, hair tousled and Mildred crawls up next to her, leaning into her as Mum’s arms come up around her.

“There’s my girl,” Mum murmurs and cuddles her close, and Mildred can’t think of any better feeling in the world. She thinks of Miss Hardbroom though again and chews on the end of one braid.

“Everything alright, love? You’re very quiet. Hmm?” She peers down into Mildred’s face and Mildred sniffles just a little.

“It’s just - it’s just -” She presses closer into Mum and sighs. “I just called Miss Hardbroom to wish her Happy Yule.”

“And?”

“And Mum, she’s all alone! She’s all alone on Yule.” Mildred does cry then, gulping as she tries not to, every passing moment in Mum’s arms making her feel sadder still.

Mum’s quiet for a long time, smoothing her hair and holding her close. Finally she passes Mildred a tissues and sighs. “Millie-love, she’s probably been alone many Yules. You can’t save everyone - though I know it’s in your heart to try. And she’s made choices, you know that.”

“I know, but I also know that it doesn’t have to be like this - I know her heart, Mum. I know she cares, she just has trouble with showing it. Ethel was threatening me by saying that the Magic Council was going to take my magic because I wasn’t enough of a witch. And when I told Miss Hardbroom, she said that as long as there was air in her lungs she’d never let that happen. Ever. She’s on my side, Mum. She wants to be on my side now, even though it’s hard for her to show it.”

“You tell her what Ethel says to you?”

“Sometimes.” Mum hugs her tightly then and Mildred pulls back to look up at her concerned when Mum seems like she might be crying.

“Mum?”

“I’m just relieved, sweets. I didn’t like the the thought of you keeping all of this bullying nonsense to yourself. I’m just so relieved.” Mum pulls her in again and Mildred hugs her back.

Mum moves to cup her face and brush a strand of hair from her eyes. “She really said that?”

“She did. And she said she’d train me up as the best witch my age if I worked hard. Please, Mum, can I go to Cackle’s just for a few hours? Just so she’s not by herself all day on Yule?”

Mum frowns, “Do you think she’d accept that? I don’t want you getting hurt too, love.” It’s a warning, and Mildred thinks of Pippa standing in the cold courtyard, tear tracks down her face and bites her lip.

“I’m not going to give her a choice.”

Mum laughs. “You sound like someone else we know. You have a good heart, Mildred. That’s for certain.”

“So can I go?” She whispers.

There’s a gentle kiss on her forehead and Mum whispers into her hair, “Okay, love. Okay.”

______

Mildred’s not sure what Mum tells Pippa, only that they whisper for a long time in the kitchen before Mum pops her head out and calls her in.

“Pippa will summon you home at five o’clock for dinner, so be sure to mind the time.”

Mildred nods and Pippa comes over and hugs her tightly - much more tightly than a simple departure for a few hours warrants - and Mildred feels teary again at all the unspoken things Pippa manages to put into that hug. She decides right then and there she’s going to pass along the hug to Miss Hardbroom even if Miss Hardbroom ends up turning her into something unpleasant because of it.

Pulling back she smiles and hands Mildred a small parcel of holly, laurel and evergreen pine which she’s tied together into a bundle, Mildred recognizes them as the traditional herbs of Yule and thanks her, tucking them into her pocket. Pippa then hands her a wooden box.

“Miss Hardbroom will know what to do with this. Tell her it’s rather important that you learn.” She winks and Mildred clutches the box to her as Mum moves in to smooth her hair and kiss her forehead. “Maglet us if you want to come home early.”

“I won’t.” She smiles brightly and Mum rolls her eyes as she pulls her into a hug whispering, “ _H_ _ow did you grow up to be such a persistent matchmaker, huh?”_ in her ear and Mildred laughs. “Only from the the best,” she whispers back, thinking of all the single neighbors Mum has matched up over the years. It makes her a little sad though, that Mum never thought of matching someone with herself.

Mum steps back and Pippa meets her eye, something longing in her gaze. _Next year we can all be together maybe_ , Mildred silently promises her.

They smile at one another and the kitchen fades out.

______

After the unexpected call from Mildred, Hecate finds she has trouble settling herself. She’s only ever had a handful of Yules that haven’t been quiet, haven’t been spent alone. And the only times that had been any different she’d woken on the dawn of Yule in the very room that Mildred Hubble is now staying, Pippa snuggled up closely beside her.

But that was a long, long time ago, and suddenly she feels very old and very lonely.

Some days she wonders if there will ever cease to be a Pippa shaped hole in her heart, though some days it’s a lot easier to pretend she doesn’t know what she’s missing. Because she can picture Mildred Hubble in her mother in the kitchen at Pippa’s cottage, can picture the room and the furniture and Pippa’s excited smile as they roll out Yuletide treats.

Her heart twinges at the absence of Pippa’s parents in the memories, twinges with a sadness she has never managed to mute. She’d gone to the funerals, of course. She'd stood in the back beneath beneath an invisibility charm, desperate to support, but unable to burden Pippa more with her presence with things so fraught between them.

Because, after all, she was the one who left, wasn’t she? It’s not like she had any right to console Pippa on either occasion, she’d given up any right she ever had to stand by Pippa’s side long ago. But still, she mourns them, mourns the loss of only family she’d ever really known. Just as she mourns Pippa.

She finally settles in the window seat and tries to read, though her mind keeps darting back to Pippa, and summers, and Yules at the cottage with her Pippa's family, and to her own mother, and to the blackness in her mind that holds unwanted memories of her father. She shivers and pulls the shawl she wears more closely around her shoulders. And then shivers again.

Because someone is watching her.

Jerking around she turns and looks straight into the eyes of Mildred Hubble.

For a moment they simply stare at each other before Mildred beams. “Happy Yule, Miss Hardbroom.” Her voice is loud and cheery and Hecate tries not to wince at the sudden sound in the quiet, her heart races in surprise and confusion.

“What,” she says, as she slowly rises and moves towards the girl, “in Merlin’s name are you doing here, Mildred Hubble.” The girl suddenly looks rather nervous but reaches into her pocket and pulls out a bundle of Yule herbs. She waves in the air between them like a peace offering.

“I thought as your apprentice we should spend at least _some_ of Yule together.” Mildred rolls her eyes in a not very convincing act but Hecate reaches out and takes the sprig from her, eyes pricking with emotion as the warm, spicy scent of Yule reaches her.

“I didn’t think you’d eat biscuits, but I brought this instead.” She holds out the box and Hecate feels her chest squeeze tight as Mildred hands it over as well. She blinks for a moment and then realizes that she’s said very little thus far and snaps her fingers to light the fire while summoning the tea service.

“Come in. You were correct in your assumption about biscuits - which means I have little I can offer in the way of sweets.”

Mildred circles round and plunks down in a chair by the fire, stretching out to warm her toes. “That’s all right. Mum says I’m not to spoil my dinner - I can stay until five o’clock. What’s in the box?”

“The box?” She’d nearly forgotten she was holding it, taken as she's been with watching Mildred make herself at home with a familiarly and an easiness that makes her throat feel rather scratchy. “Ah, yes, the box.”

She crosses and sits across from Mildred, laying the it open on the table between them.

“A chess set!” Mildred leans forward and pulls out a rook, examining it closely. “I’ve never played. What’s this piece do?”

Hecate feels warm inside as she recalls asking the same question, Pippa perched across from her and this very board balanced on the bed between them. She feels Pippa’s words from long ago flow from her own mouth as she explains the rules, the pieces, and the strategy of the game.

And it’s strange, the thinks, as Mildred lines up the pieces on the board at her direction, that this girl brings forth so many echoes of her past forward into the present. So many long ago happy moments relieved - only now it’s her who explains chess to a gangly teen, and her who reads beloved children’s tales aloud late into the night.

Her heart feels a little too large for her chest and she watches, carefully, as Mildred, in turn, carefully watches the board, each lost to their own discoveries. And she finds herself quite enjoying the hours that pass as she prompts Mildred through the moves and discusses tactical advantages with her.

After they work through a few mock games together, Hecate rises and collects the now often retrieved leather volume from her bookshelf, thumbing to the middle. Mildred settles further into her chair and listens, wrapt as always as she reads aloud the Tale of Rhian, a blind woman who one day followed a cunning little breeze into a dark and deep cave where all others feared to tread. But Rhian, blind as she was, never thought to think of danger because darkness walked beside her -  always as a constant companion rather than a fear.

It’s easier now than it was that first night to read to Mildred and she finds herself relaxing further at the telling of each tale, warming to the story, warming to the audience. 

_And as Rhian traveled deeper and deeper still into the darkness of the cave she used her ears and her hands as her guides. Long ago she had learned to listen to the world around her, listen to what so many others with sight often missed hearing in the secret languages of the Earth._

_And the Earth spoke to her saying, “Rhian, come in, you are welcome at my hearth of rock and stone, for I have been terribly lonely. Once humankind took shelter in my caves and called me home. But soon they came to fear the dark and sheltered here no more.”_

_“I do not fear the dark,” Rhian whispered to the rough wall beneath her fingertips, “I do not fear you. For someday my bones shall lay within your arms and you shall be my home once again, as you shall be too for all humankind when their last day is done.”_

_And the Earth sighed, shifting small rocks and pebbles away from her feet to ease her passage. And Rhian continued on._

_After a time she came to an underground stream but had no way to measure how wide or deep the water that crossed her path might be. She slipped off her shoes and played along the shoreline, listening to the song of the water, laughing as it tickled her feet._

_“Rhian, come in, you are welcome in my riverbed, for I have been terribly lonely. Once humankind drank sweetly at my shoreline and praised my babbling tunes. But they soon discovered water that ran through bright, sunlit banks and came to drink from me no more.”_

_“I do not know how sunlight looks upon the water,” Rhian whispered trailing her hand through the gentle current. “To me you are as lovely as any stream met by a thirsty traveler on a journey.”_

_And the Water sighed, rising around her shoulders like a cloak and carrying her to the shore beyond. And Rhian drank her fill and continued on._

_After a time she grew very cold indeed, such was the depth of her climb to the heart of the world. But just when she felt her very first breath of fear, the echoes around her grew in vastness and knew she’d come into a great cavern indeed. A strange but welcome warmth drew her closer in and closer still, and she reached out her hands and warmed them, smiling as the cold within her vanished along with her fear._

_“Rhian, come in, you are welcome in my heart for I have been terribly lonely. Once, long before humankind, there were others. They came to danced in my flame and learn the secrets of the world. But soon they grew to be feared for their knowledge and came to dance no more.”_

_“I do not fear knowledge,” Rhain whispered smiling at the heat against her palms. “Without knowledge I would not have known to follow the breeze, or speak with the stone, or laugh with the river.”_

_And the Fire of the World sighed, passing unto Rhian all her deepest secrets. And Rhian stood in the center of the world and her heart knew light._

_The cunning breeze that had borne her to the cave returned then pulled at her skirts until she followed it back to the river. And the river parted before her feet until she reached the stoney incline, and the rock rose beneath her until at last she felt sunlight again upon her cheeks._

_“Rhian, return to the village and be welcomed, for the people there are lonely. Once they breathed me in and breathed out sweet incantations. But they have forgotten that the magic of the world is always listening and they sing their chants no more.”_

_“I can hear the magic of the world,” Rhian whispered, leaning into the breeze and letting it caress her face. “I have been listening for a long, long time.”_

_And Rhian returned to her village and taught her children and her children’s children all that she knew. And, thus, so magic is taught to all those who only know how to listen._

Hecate hears a small sniffle and looks up to find Mildred rubbing her sleeve against her eyes, tears tracking down her cheek. She catches Hecate watching her and chokes a little on a half-laugh and shrugs. “It’s just s-so b-beautiful.” She buries her nose in her sweater and sniffs a bit more and Hecate feels her cheeks grow very warm. It takes her a moment to realize it’s with affection.

Gently closing the book, she sets it aside, rising and producing the black silk handkerchief she keeps tucked up her sleeve. Mildred takes it but merely stares down at it, tears dripping down her face.

“Surely you know what a handkerchief is -”

But Mildred is up and out of the chair, launching herself at her before she can shy away, thin arms wrapping around her middle to squeeze her tightly. She feels herself tense, uncertain with how to respond, uncertain where to put her hands as Mildred sobs into her stomach. She settles for patting the girl a bit awkwardly upon the back. Mildred holds on for longer than she expects and when she steps back she’s bright red. “Sorry, Miss Hardbroom.”

“That’s quite...all right,” she says stiffly, although she’s really not sure that it is. In fact, she’s really not sure about a great many things at the moment.

Mildred finally utilizes the handkerchief and looks uncertainly at her. “Keep it.” she advises, jumping slightly as she turns away and is started by the sound of Mildred loudly blowing her nose.

“It’s almost five o’clock,” she says after Mildred has collected herself. “Will you need me to -?”

“No, it’s all right, they’ll summon me.” It’s the closest they’ve come in the dance they’ve done around who Mildred is spending Yule with, and Hecate can tell Mildred is trying to break the tension when says, “I think that was my favorite tale yet, Miss Hardbroom.”

The strange, confusing, upwelling of affection tugs at her heart again. “It is mine as well.”

Mildred smiles brightly at her and the clock chimes. “Happy Yule, Miss Hardbroom.”

She winks out and Hecate sits back feeling rather damp around the eyes.

“Happy Yule, Mildred.”

______

She’s pleased to find a new letter has come through from StarWitch5. It helps to fill the emptiness that settles around the room at Mildred’s absence and she settles by the fire to read, heart beating fondly at the familiar style.

_Happy Yule to you, too!_

_Ever since my parents passed, I also often have a quiet Yule. Some years I spend the day with an old family friend and her family. But being alone doesn’t bother me as much as it used to and I don't might a quiet Yule, same as you. And, really, it’s the ceremony that matters most to me._

_This year, however, I have guests for the first time in a long time and I have to admit that sharing the holiday with them has warmed my heart. For many reasons it’s been a difficult year and I’ve often felt alone even though I rarely have been. These letters have come to mean a great deal to me. I will be sure to light a candle for you tonight. I hope you are warm and enjoy the rise of a new sun on a new year. And in that new year - perhaps - maybe - would you like to meet?_

_Happy Yule,  
_ _StarWitch5_

She sits for a moment, stunned, staring down at the message.

_Meet?_

It’s not like she hasn’t wondered what it would be like to meet her mysterious correspondent face to face. She’s tried to imagine StarWitch5 in the deep, sleepless hours of the night when both her mind and her body ache for affection, burn for companionship. But instead she can only see Pippa behind her eyelids, hauntingly beautiful, and always, always just out of reach. It feels unfair to the nameless, faceless StarWitch5 to wish for her to be someone she’s not. To wish that it were Pippa on the other end listening as Hecate reveals more and more or herself with each passing message and responding in return.

But it isn’t Pippa. And she’s _hurt_ Pippa. Irreparably, perhaps.

She rises, suddenly restless, and moves to gather up the pieces of the abandoned chessboard.

 _Another reminder of Pippa_.

She wonders if she should have sent it back with Mildred, if that would have been the proper thing to do. Still, she’s selfishly glad to have it, just as she’s glad to have her memories of the sweet, Pippa-filled years of her youth -  before she knew there was nothing sweet about the longing and desire she felt for her very best friend.

Sighing, she’s about to close the box when she realizes Mildred’s left something in her chair - a picture frame by the looks of it. Frowning she picks it up, only for tears to come swiftly, splashing wetly down to land on the glass when she realizes the contents of the frame. She looks down upon two girls frozen in time, their happy smiles, their bright eyes. She remembers how Pippa had kissed her cheek right after this picture had been taken and how she’d smelled of berries and the sea and how she had loved her. Had _loved her_.

She still loves her, she thinks, wiping at her eyes.

The frame has an odd whiff of distinctly Hubble magic to it and she concentrates, huffing when she realizes that it’s Mildred’s flimsy duplication spell. Gently, she strengthens it, nudging the magic into its proper place.

She can’t keep her eyes from the picture as she retrieves her mother’s book and walks to the bookshelf, placing them side-by-side: her two most valued possessions.

______

She doesn’t answer StarWitch5 immediately- she doesn’t know what to say. Perhaps with someone other than Pippa it would be different, she muses. Perhaps it would be as easy as their correspondence. Perhaps she wouldn’t hide all her affection away or feel like her love is a tainted, wicked thing.

She thinks about it and thinks about it some more, and in the end decides to give herself time to decide.

Instead she prepare for the Yule ceremony, gathering her ingredients and candles and laying them out for sunrise. She tries to rest a bit but her mind races far too much and by the time the night has passed, long, and dark, and colder than she can remember it ever being before, she’s anxious and edgy, and her eyes feel tired and gritty.

Still, she makes her way down to the grounds and waves a hand to clear a small patch in the snow on the hill of the east lawn. Kneeling she arranges the six Yule candles in a half-circle before her, mind wandering back to Pippa who at this very moment must be kneeling beside Mildred in the half-light of pre-dawn as Julie Hubble looks on.  

She sniffs and blames it on the cold, fanning out the laurel and the holly and the evergreen pine in the crescent made by the candles. The sun peaks over the horizon, bright and clear, and she’s pleased not to have to use a Weather Spell as she begins the Yuletide chant. 

Raising her hand, she makes a slow circling motion and from the sun a small flare is tugged, fiery, and warm, and very bright as it arcs down from the sky to hover against her fingertips. She directs it to light the first candle in the half-circle, bidding goodbye to the darkness and reciting the incantation for the rebirth of the sun. The second flare brings her to the incantation for harmony, the next for peace, and the fourth for mental energy. She lights the each candle with a ray from the sun, counting down the months until Midsummer’s. The fifth candle she lights for future plans and the sixth for love and happiness.

The sun beams brightly over the horizon as she works through the sixth incantation and Pippa once again materializes before her eyes -  once again a child in the backyard of the very cottage where now Mildred recites these same words in this same sun. In her mind Hecate see’s Pippa that first Yule they’d spent together, how Pippa had practically looked like the sun herself, her hair ablaze in the growing dawn, her smile bright and warm as they’d murmured the words along with Pippa’s mother.

_Love and happiness._

She’s never know what to make of this last incantation, the one that has always seemed to be a magic not made for one like her. But this year it feels different. This year there’s a small tug in her heart akin the the spell she whispers to tug down the light from the sun. It races through her veins, twines itself around her magic, and joins the beam of sunlight in lighting the flame. It’s only then that she realizes what it is.

It’s hope.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later that night she lays in the dark, the castle silent under the weight of heavy snowfall. Morgana paces fretfully by her side and she tries to still her mind, tries to dispel the loneliness that scrapes at her lungs with every breath.
> 
> When she can bear it no more, she casts a dim light to hover above her, tugs out her maglet, and writes:
> 
>  
> 
> _Do you still want to meet?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) At what point does a fic warrant a 'slow burn' tag? Asking for a friend. 
> 
> 2) Don't worry - this fic is not like 'Help Me When I Fall.' I promise you :) 
> 
> 3) I'm still catching up with replying to comments, so thank you everyone for your kind words and enthusiasm. I will probably never, ever post a fic chapter by chapter _ever_ again because it's super stressful for me to do it that way, so your comments have really cheered me on when I keep asking myself why on earth I've done this to myself. Omg.
> 
> 4) Pippa might be a match maker too :o
> 
> 5) <3

Term begins again and she still hasn’t found a way to answer StartWitch5’s question. Instead she directs the conversation back to safer topics - like preferred translations of runic texts, and favorite spells, and, shamefully, even the weather. Thankfully StarWitch5 lets it pass, although Hecate often stays up late into the night wondering _what if_.

One cold and blustery afternoon in late February, she’s in the middle of lecturing the Third Years on the proper cauldron temperature for reducing slime of a slug to its most potent consistency when she finds herself suddenly not in the potions lab leaning over Helena Feverfew’s cauldron, but rather in Ada’s office, off balance and nauseous with the effects of an unexpected transfer.

She rights herself and stiffens her spine.

“Emergency, I presume.” There are rules after all, she fumes silently, gritting her teeth. One does not just summon another witch without very good reason. And this is the second time this year that Ada’s done so.  

But Ada is wringing her hands and Hecate’s heart sinks. “What is it, Ada. What’s happened.”

The headmistress looks woebegone. “I’m afraid there’s been a bit of an accident -”

“Accident?” Her mind races to Pippa and her stomach drops.

“Yes. I’m afraid Mildred Hubble -”

She only hears white noise after that and the next moment finds herself in a chair that Ada’s conjured up behind her.

“- Mildred Hubble’s _mother_ has had an accident and is in hospital,” Ada is saying when Hecate’s ears resume their function. She gently lays a papery hand on her arm and Hecate tries not to tense at the sensation or sag in sick relief that the injured party is  _not Mildred._

“Nothing dire, I hope.”

Ada’s lips turns down and she looks anxiously at Hecate. “I’m afraid the girl didn’t give me a chance to say much, she took off like a shot before I could offer to transfer her -”

“And you didn’t go after her?” Hecate stands and paces in agitation, “Have you tried a Locator Spell?”

“Yes, and nothing came back - Hecate - the girl simply is no longer on the grounds of this school.” She pauses and frowns. “She couldn’t have transferred, could she have? Even under your tutelage I’m afraid that girl is rather - “

“The girl is rather _powerful_.” Hecate finishes for her, skin prickling. “She could not have, but she will be able to when the time comes. ” Mind on on Mildred's whereabouts, she circles Ada. “You said she ran. You didn’t transfer after her?”

“Well, no - I - I didn’t think she’d go far.”

Hecate closes her eyes. _Then you do not know Mildred Hubble._

“I believe she went down the east corridor - but when I looked out after her, she was gone.”

Hecate opens her eyes, mind whirling - before whirling herself - spinning into molecules of nothing until she re-materializes, rather more abruptly than usual, in the physical education shed where the brooms are kept.

She’s barely had a chance to settle into herself when Miss Drill is by her side.

“Where was Mildred Hubble going?”

Hecate blinks. “Mildred Hubble? You’ve seen her?”

Miss Drill turns and points to the sky where a small black dot is just visible against the steely, gray clouds.

“Came running through here like a cauldron fire, grabbed a broom, and was up in the air before you could say ‘bee antenna.’ Didn’t think she looked alright, but I couldn’t leave my students - I’ve got First Years. Sent Sybil up to the school though to get help.”

Hecate finds a broom in her hand without even realizing she’s summoned it from the many that line the walls around them, and Miss Drill bites her lip, her freckles standing out sharply in concern. “What is it - is everyone all right? Hecate?”

“It’s her mother. She’s in hospital.” It’s all she has time to say before she’s mounted up and is streaking after Mildred, the small speck of her growing smaller by the minute. Frigid air buffers her from all sides as her broom rises until Miss Drill's alarmed voice is drowned out by the wind.

She climbs higher and higher, urging her broom on, and never takes her eyes from the small figure in the distance.

_______

Mildred can’t stop shivering. Her stiff, cold hands struggle to grip the handle of the broom and the wind slaps against her face drawing out tears which she refuses to let otherwise fall. She will not cry. She’s got to be brave. For Mum.

 _Mum_.

She leans into the the icy air and wills her broom to fly faster. _She’ll be okay. She has to be okay._

Miss Cackle hadn’t said why Mum was in hospital. Had only said Mum was. _But Mum is never sick, rarely even with a cold_ , she frets, wincing as one of her braids hits her squarely in the face as the wind whips at her. Mum always said it was because she worked in with sick people all day and had a good immune system because of it. _Healthy as a horse, love,_  Mildred hears Mum say in her head and she bites down on a sob.

_She will not cry._

Instead she imagines the hospital. The familiar halls and the familiar doctors and all of Mum’s colleagues standing all around Mum’s bed keeping her safe until Mildred can arrive. She makes a list of them in her head as she flies to calm herself.

_There’s Doctor Abhram. He always gives me lollipops when I visit Mum. And Doctor Tanya. She always lets me try her stethoscope. And the nurses: Britta, Kelli, Benji. They always wear colorful scrubs with flowers on them. Well, except Benji, he like to wear ones with rubberducks. But none of them have scrubs as neat as the ones I got Mum for Christmas last year - the ones with tiny t-rexes all over. Mum said all the other nurses were really jealous and that she was the talk of the ward until spring._

A large gust of wind nearly unseats her and her cold hands slip on the the handle of her broom as she struggles to keep herself anchored. She shrieks and tries to steady herself, then shrieks again with surprise at the black shape that looms not too far off in the distance behind her.

_Miss Hardbroom._

She feels determination flare anew within chest and rights herself, crouching further forward along the handle to increase her speed and the distance between them.  _I won’t go back to Cackle’s. I won’t. Mum needs me_.

Because Miss Hardbroom just won’t _understand_. Not when it comes to Mum. Not when it comes to _mums._ And as much as Mildred’s come to know and respect her, Miss Hardbroom is still, well, Miss Hardbroom.

 _Impulsive,_ Miss Hardbroom will call her. _Has_ called her. And Mildred simply refuses to not be impulsive right not. Not when Mum’s in trouble.

She can’t hold in her emotions in and be who Miss Hardbroom _wants her to be_ right now. Not when when her heart is galloping through her chest and all she wants is to see Mum’s face, and breath her in, and hug her tight. And Miss Hardbroom wouldn’t understand any of that. She chews on a lip and angles her broom towards the ground as the hospital finally, _finally_ comes into view.

But her potions mistress is gaining on her and Mildred can see from the corner of her eye following her down. _Think_ , _Mildred_.

She mentally reviews a Vanishing Spell in her head in preparation, heart in her throat as her feet slam into the ground and she stumbles forward from the momentum, whispering the spell so that her broom disappears and she takes off at a run through the double doors of the hospital before Miss Hardbroom has even touched down behind her.

She knows the way like she knows her own apartment, like she knows Mum’s smile, and dashes through winding doorways and hallways until she sprints through the entrance to the waiting room and slams straight into -

 _Miss Pentangle_.

“Mildred! Oh, Mildred. You’re here, I’m so glad.”

“Mum - Mum -”

“She’s going to be just fine, sweetheart.”

Mildred bursts into tears.

She throws her arms around Miss Pentangle who knees down so she can hold Mildred tightly, her hand coming up to stroke Mildred’s hair.

“She’s all right, she had a little mishap and is with the doctors now. Someone from nursing is going to come by and let us know when we can see her in just a little bit. But she’s going to be okay, Mildred.”

Mildred can’t seem to stop the tears, can’t seem to let go of Miss Pentangle like she’s the only thing that can keep Mildred safe until she can see _Mum_. Mum. Who is okay. Who is _going to be okay_.  She draws a shaky breath and finally pulls back so she can wipe at her tears.

“What happened? And how come you’re here?”

Miss Pentangle smiles and subtly produces a hankie from thin air, passing it to Mildred before her hands come up to soothe down Mildred’s quaking shoulders.  “It seems your Mum was dog sitting Jake The Bulldog for your neighbor, Ms. Roberts. He went after a squirrel and your mum got tangled in the leash and took quite a tumble. But the doctors say they can patch her right up.” She moves her hands down and takes Mildred’s in her own, squeezing them gently.

“And I’m here because your mum made me her emergency contact. She wanted to make sure that if something happened to her there was a channel to let you know immediately. So I called Miss Cackle and here I am.”

Mildred reaches out and wraps her arms around Pippa’s neck once more, comforted by the way she hugs her back and the now familiar floral scent that always seems to linger wherever she goes.

“You’re absolutely freezing, Mildred, however did you get to be this cold?”

“I flew,” She whispers and begins to cry again, overwhelmed by it suddenly.

“Flew?” Pippa sounds scandalized and her hand moves to rub up and down Mildred’s back. She feels a warmth emanating from it, a Warming Spell, and she presses closer to Miss Pentangle.

But Pippa suddenly stiffens against her and she pulls back in confusion, and then frowns in more confusion. Because Miss Pentangle isn’t looking at her. She’s looking behind her. And her eyes are very, very narrow.

Mildred whirls around. Miss Hardbroom stands in the doorway looking rather windswept, broom in hand. She looks so out of place in the bright and glossy hospital light that Mildred nearly laughs but doesn’t when she sees the look on Miss Hardbroom’s face. Instead she steps back against Miss Pentangle, as if her arms are a protective enchantment that can keep her safe.

“I thought Miss Cackle would transfer you, surely.” Pippa says slowly, her hands on Mildred’s arms, her eyes never leaving Miss Hardbroom’s face. “I thought _someone would_ transfer you. Flying in this weather - “ she breaks her gaze away and looks at Mildred in concern “- it’s freezing out there.”

“I ran away,” Mildred whispers, shamefaced. “As soon as Miss Cackle said Mum was in hospital, I knew I had to come. I was afraid they wouldn’t let me. And I knew where to fly.”

“You’re here now, and you’re safe. And that is -”

Pippa glances at Miss Hardbroom who is still lurking in the doorway and and breaks off, mouth half open, frowning. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart, wait here.” She rises abruptly and crosses the floor though Mildred trails behind her.

“Hecate,” She hisses, “your _broom_.”

Miss Hardbroom looks horrified, cheeks flaming, and her eyes dart around the room where people are looking over at them curiously. Next to Miss Pentangle in her jeans and pink sneakers, she does stand out quite a bit and Mildred bites her lip, trying not to giggle and embarrass Miss Hardbroom even more.

But when she blinks, the broom is gone. In fact, she suddenly has trouble remembering if it was even there to begin with. Still, Miss Pentangle grabs Miss Hardbroom’s elbow and hauls her out into the hallway, Mildred following curiously behind them.

“Hecate you can’t wear that here, people will think you’ve come from a costume party.”

Miss Hardbroom stiffens and glares at Miss Pentangle as she bodily pulls her down the hallway.

“In here.” She pulls open a door and gestures her in.

“But it’s a supply cupboard.”

“Yes, I wish to speak with you. In private.”

“I see rather no point -“

“The supply cupboard, Hecate. Now.”

Miss Hardbroom sniffs and turns on her heel, back ramrod straight as she enters and the door swings nearly shut behind them, though it does not latch, and Mildred can hear the sounds of their voices quarreling within.

Rolling her eyes she lingers for a moment, but when she can only make out the tone of their voices and not their words, she returns to the waiting area. It’s so much warmer in here than outdoors and the heat combined with relief that Mum is going to be okay makes her suddenly rather sleepy. She sinks into one of the hard plastic chairs and draws her knees up, her eyelids growing heavy…

When she opens them again she feels rather stiff and Miss Pentangle’s pink cardigan is draped across her, although she’s nowhere in sight. Blinking sleepily Mildred uncurls her limbs and looks around the room - much emptier now that it was when they first came in.

There’s a mum and a little boy who looks like he might have a broken arm and a old man in a wheelchair - but no Miss Pentangle or Miss Hardbroom. There’s lady talking to the front desk clerk and Mildred thinks she seems awfully familiar. She’s tall, and rather pretty, with dark hair in a low chignon and beautifully tailored high-waisted slacks. Mildred wonders if it’s one of Mum’s coworkers in admin, frowning as she tries to place her.

The lady turns and Mildred gasps with the realization.

It’s _Miss Hardbroom_.

In _slacks._

Their eyes meet across the room and Mildred can only stare until Miss Hardbroom arches a lofty eyebrow and she slides out of the chair and crosses the room on legs that prickle with pins from her awkward sleeping position.

“Where’s Miss Pentangle? When can I see Mum?”

Miss Hardbroom is watching her closely and Mildred wonders when she’s going to scold her for leaving school grounds without permission. She hangs her head but Miss Hardbroom steps closer, lingering in Mildred’s space but not touching her and Mildred raises her eyes up, confused when the lecture does not come.

Instead when Miss Hardbroom speaks her voice is very soft. “Your mother is resting. They performed a small surgery on her but she is recovering well and is awake and alert. Miss Pentangle is with her, we thought it best to let you rest during the procedure.”

“Surgery -?” Her heart curls up in her chest and she feels a ripple of fear run through her.

Miss Hardbroom gestures and Mildred moves with her towards the door that leads to the recovery rooms. “Very minimally invasive. When she fell she landed hard which resulted in several tears along her spleen, easily repairable, though she will need a good deal of rest. Do you know what a spleen does, Mildred?”

They move down the hallway and Mildred trots along beside Miss Hardbroom’s long strides. She realizes that it’s the pants. Miss Hardbroom can hardly step this widely in those constricting dresses she wears, Mildred muses as she hurries to keep up. And the rapid pace she’s keeping must just be because Miss Hardbroom is unaccustomed to the freedom that the pants allow - it can’t be because she’s eager to see her reunited with Mum - can it -?

Shaking the thought away Mildred frowns, “It’s an organ?”

“Yes,” Miss Hardbroom glances at her out of the the corner of her eye as they turn a down another hallway. “It is responsible for filtering blood and enables ones immune system to function properly. Fortunately your mother’s accident didn’t result in the removal of the organ. They merely repaired the damage by stitching up the tears.” They stop outside door number 512 and Mildred suddenly feels her stomach flip flop.

She peaks in, worried about what she’ll find, and looks into Mum’s bright blue eyes.

“Millie-love.”

Heart flaring with warmth and relief Mildred trips over her feet in her haste to make it to Mum’s side. Mum looks rather tired but she reaches out a hand and takes Mildred’s in her own, bringing it to her mouth to kiss it before tugging her closer to kiss her forehead.

“You’re all right,” Mildred finds herself nearly crying again and Mum nods.

“Right as rain, my sweets.”

Miss Pentangle rises from the foot of the bed and smiles. “We’ll leave you two alone -"

But Miss Hardbroom makes a surprised sort of sound and Mildred looks up to see her pushed forward from the doorway as Miss Drill skids into the room, sopping wet and breathless, her curls frizzing out around her.

She freezes, a puddle growing around at her feet as they all stare.

“Erm. Hello. Well Met.”

Mildred looks at her. And looks at Miss Hardbroom, who looks downright alarmed. And looks at Miss Pentangle, who looks like she might laugh. And, finally, at Mum, who looks amused and rather pink.

“What are you doing here,” Mildred says slowly.

Miss Drill straightens and shivers a bit, that familiar grin of hers breaking across her face, though she casts Mum a furtive look before answering. “Came after you of course. Was worried when you took off like that - goes against broom safely standards for a Junior Witch to fly in those conditions without Warming Spells and a secondary witch who is of Age.”

“Miss Hardbroom was with me.” It’s not quite the truth, but Miss Hardbroom merely lifts and eyebrow and sniffs. Miss Drill turns to her and her smile widens. “Slacks, Hecate?”

“I dare say it’s better than dripping all over the floor, Dimity. For Merlin’s sake, use a Drying Spell or else I will.”

Miss Pentangle makes a small noise of amusement and Miss Hardbroom throws her a look dark enough that the warm glimmer slides from her eyes as Miss Drill dries herself.

“Glad you’re all right, Mildred Hubble. Gave us all a fright.”

“What did you do, Millie?” Mum squeezes her hand and Mildred flushes a little, studying her shoes.

“Took off on a school broom and flew all the way here in freezing conditions with a storm brewing, she did. Only just missed the snow. I had a class o’ First Years but Miss Hardbroom here came after her, thank Melin.”

Mum looks between the four of them, her eyes finally resting on Miss Hardbroom. “Thank you.”

Miss Hardbroom inclines her head stiffly and Mildred sags against the side of Mum’s bed. “Are you really going to be alright?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Though - “ She tugs Mildred closer to the bed and gives a loud stage whisper, “they have me on a heaps of meds. Do you think you can get your lot to do more magic? It’s even more entertaining this way.”

Mildred rolls her eyes and behind them Miss Hardbroom tuts.

“Hecate, let’s go to the cafeteria for a cup of tea, shall we?” Miss Pentangle herds Miss Hardbroom towards the door but Miss Hardbroom frowns at Miss Drill.

“Dimity -”   

“Dimity, I’m sure, will want to stay here and check Mildred over for signs of _broomalisis,_ given that she flew in such conditions.” Miss Pentangle smiles over her shoulder at them and then is gone, leaving a very sheepish Miss Drill standing in the middle of the room.

Mildred frowns. “What’s broomalisis?”

Miss Drill looks startled and then smiles. “Broomalisis? Oh. Right. You just fine by the looks of it. No tingling in your hands or feet?”

“No?”

“I have tingling,” says Mum, then blushes and Mildred stares at her.

“Sorry, Miss Drill, she’s on a lot of meds.”

“That’s quite alright, why don’t I - “ she snaps her fingers and a bouquet of lilies appears. She sets them into the vase on Mum’s bedside table. It nearly overflows with well wishes and gifts from the hospital staff and Mildred spots several lollipops from Doctor Abhram and smiles.

“Feel better soon.” Miss Drill is looking at Mum with bright eyes and Mum is looking back and Mildred hopes that maybe Miss Drill will be Mum’s friend too, just like Miss Pentangle.

With one last smile she ducks back out the door and Mum sighs, leaning against Mildred’s arm. “You have some lovely, teachers, Mildred,” she says drowsily.

“Did you see Miss Hardbroom in those _pants._ ”

Mum’s eyes shoot open and she laughs, then winces. “Oy, did you see how Pippa couldn’t keep her eyes away from _those pants_.”

They laugh and Mum winces some more and Mildred moves around to pour her some water.

“You’re really okay, Mum?”

Mum smiles and takes the glass, gesturing for Mildred to come sit on the bed with her.

“They’ll release me later tonight, I expect. I can go home and Miss Pentangle’s going to come take care of me for a few days.”

“Can I come too?”

“You have school, love.”

“Just for a few days? Please? Just so I know you’re alright. I can make you breakfast in bed and keep you company so you don’t get bored and -”

“Alright,” Mum cuts in, laughing softly again, hand over her left side. “Alright.”

Mildred breathes a sigh of relief and Mum smiles at her. “How’d I get so lucky to have you as my daughter, huh?”

“I think I’m the lucky one, Mum.” She beams and gently hugs Mum on her good side, content to be nestled snug in her arms at last.

______

She ignores Hecate’s hiss that _there’s no such thing as broomalisis_ in the elevator ride down to basement, opting to study the toes of her shoes instead. When they reach the hospital cafeteria they find it nearly deserted, perhaps because of the snow, with only a few patrons and doctors scattered across the many tables.

The harsh fluorescent light makes Pippa’s head ache slightly as she follows Hecate across to the tea service.

They fill their cups in silence and Hecate hovers by her elbow as Pippa pays, sliding her card at the register, trying not to grimace at the weight of Hecate’s eyes on her.

The table the settle at is is small and cramped. She sips her tea, eyes traveling the room in an effort to avoid the inevitable.

She’s still unprepared when it comes.

“Pippa.” Hecate’s voice is soft and she can’t help but look at her. Can’t help the way her heart rate increases at the look of Hecate in Ordinary streetwear, a wisp of hair escaping from the low bun Pippa had magicked her hair into. She wants to reach out and tuck it behind Hecate’s ear but curls her fingers around the styrofoam cup in her hand instead.

She drops her eyes and Hecate sighs.

“That night - last year - what I said -”

“We don’t need to revisit it.” She doesn’t want to hear Hecate justify it. Expand on why it is that Pippa is _not wanted._  

“I do wish you’d be less stubborn about this.”

Her eyes fly up to Hecate’s face, hot anger pulsing beneath her skin. “Just like you wish I hadn’t - what was it? - _waltzed_ in to Cackle with my,” she thumps her tea down on the table so forcefully it sloshes over the sides and she cuts the air with sharp finger quotes, “ _power grab.”_

Their eyes lock until Hecate looks away. But she presses on, the angry words she couldn’t get out at the Yule Ball spilling from her now, unfettered by the hurt that has been pulsing along with her every heartbeat ever since Hecate walked right into her life again all those months ago only to walk right back out again.

“You always think you know best don’t you? You’re always looking down your nose at me, and at my ways, dismissing the things I _care_ about. You never really see me, do you? You just see what you want to see. And that’s fine. I’m done trying to make you.”

She pushes the stale donut she hasn’t touched away and stands, hands shaking. Hecate stares at the floor and doesn’t move. It makes her even angrier to feel like she’s the one being made giving up on this relationship when it’s been Hecate pushing her away all along.

“I’m sorry I’m not who you want me to be.”

She doesn’t look back as she leaves the cafeteria, not until she gets to the door and senses movement behind her. When she looks, there’s a handsome doctor already in her chair, leaning an elbow on the table and gesturing at the uneaten donut before laughing good-naturedly and taking a large bite. Hecate, elegant and very beautiful in her button down and slacks, looks at him in bemusement as he holds out his phone to her, obviously asking her for number.

And Pippa nearly laughs, feeling wild and undone as pain lances through her.

_Serves her right. How on earth will she tell him she doesn’t know how to work a phone._

Hecate’s staring at the man, and at the phone, her face blank and Pippa turns away, feeling sick. Hecate will probably threaten to turn him into a toad, she muses, though the doctor naively will think she doesn’t mean it.

She knows Hecate well enough to know she won’t accept a proposition, let alone from someone who is non-magical. But there’s a cold, creeping feeling in her stomach and a small voice that whispers in her head.

She doesn’t know Hecate Hardbroom at all.

She hasn’t for a long, long time.

______

Back upstairs she looks in on Julie and finds her resting so instead she follows the babble of voices down the hall. It leads to the discovery of Mildred Hubble sitting on the counter in the nurse’s station, gesturing with a lollipop as she amuses the hospital staff with a tale of Jake The Bulldog’s misadventures.

“It was really icy and I was walking him to the mailboxes to get our mail and Ms. Robert’s mail while she was on holiday. But Jake took off and I fell. He dragged me all the way down the sidewalk as if I were a sled.”

The staff laughs uproariously and a woman with red curly hair grins. “I remember that, your Mum was quite upset - had to get you new jeans, and right before the holidays, too. Ripped the bum right out of them, you did.”

They all laugh again and Mildred pops the lollipop back into her mouth before noticing her. “Miss Pentangle!” She hops off the counter beelines for her and Pippa flushes a little in pleasure when Mildred slips a hand into hers and introduces her around. It’s very clear that Mildred is well loved amongst them all, not that Pippa would expect anything less.

“When can Mum leave?” Mildred asks her and Pippa looks at the staff for assistance.

“Perhaps in an hour, little lass,” a tall, large man in rubber duckie scrubs scoops her up and deposits her in the office chair behind the desk. “How about a roller race down the halls for old time sake to pass the time? So long as Doctor Andrews doesn’t catch us, you know the rules.”

Mildred cheers and the redhead plops down in the second chair, a nurse in floral scrubs moving behind her as they position the chairs in the hallway leading away from Julie’s room.

“Ready, set - GO!” They’re off down the hall and Pippa laughs as the remaining staff cheers them on.

Turning she slips back down the corridor away from them to check on Julie, pausing outside her door when she hears low voices. When she peeks in, she’s surprised to see familiar, dark hair in the chair by Julie’s bedside and she lurks, heart squeezing, as Hecate finishes looking through Julie’s chart and discussing the operation and the recovery plan with her in a quiet voice.

Julie’s looking at Hecate carefully all the while, half reserved and half fascinated, and Pippa leans closer to hear what they’re saying.

“In your world, what would be the treatment for such a thing?”

“Infusion of willow bark and and ground poppy seed to be taken orally, and a tea of blue lotus flowers, elderberry, and myrrh.” She snaps her fingers and a vial and a packet appear in her hands. She uncorks the bottle and holds it out. Julie sniffs it.

“Willow, poppy and lotus for pain, the others for immunity? I’ve been reading _Magical Plants and Their Medical Uses_.”

Hecate caps the vial and nods.

“Is this what you would give Millie, if this were her?” When Hecate nods again Julie studies her, a considering expression on her face before she nods decisively.

“Right then. I will take it.”

Hecate leans down and tucks the packet and the vial into the bag beside Julie’s bed and straightens. There’s an awkward pause before Julie asks an open ended question about Mildred’s studies and Hecate takes up the thread gratefully, outlining what Mildred is learning, and why, where she’s growing, and where she still need more guidance.

Julie listens with rapt attention and Pippa glows with pride as Julie holds her own, asking insightful questions that have Hecate nodding along and speaking to Julie as if she were any other Cackle's parent.

It nearly brings tears to Pippa’s eyes, this change between them, this new found connection for the good of a young witch whose whoops of joys echo down the hallway - along with laughter and the screech of plastic wheels on tile floors.

Shivering she pulls her arms tightly around her middle as she watches the two women in the room, her heart breaking and glowing, glowing and breaking. If this is all that is to come of her and Hecate Hardbroom, if this one, beautiful thing has bloomed in their disastrous wake, then perhaps it is enough.

It will have to be.

______

Hecate excuses herself as some of the hospital staff take the room and help Julie change, preparing her for discharge.

Mildred and Pippa are nowhere in sight so she heads to the restroom to smooth her hair, looking at herself curiously in the mirror as she does so, and splash some water on her face.

She tries to wash off the way that oily doctor had made her skin crawl with his white coat, and his white teeth, and his slicked back hair. She supposes that he’s used to women finding him charming. She also supposes he’s not used to women dropping that _cellular device_ of his in a half full cup of tea when he won’t take no for an answer.

 _Especially when the tea belongs to the love of that woman’s life,_ she thinks dowerly, patting her face dry with scratchy paper towels as she tries not to hear Pippa’s voice in her head.

_I’m sorry I’m not who you want me to be._

What you want me to be. Hecate winces, pushing down thoughts of all the things she _wants_. Tea with Pippa from proper teacups. Un-stale donuts that make Pippa smile. Pippa’s laugh. Pippa’s mouth against her own. Pippa’s hand against her hip. Pippa’s voice in her ear and her body flush against hers and her -

Hecate leans against the sink breathing heavily, shame spreading through her. That’s the thing, isn’t it, the truth of it all? That Pippa is exactly who Hecate wants her to be.

Expect for this one thing that she can never be. Will never be.

And now she's hurt Pippa. Deeply. And it can never be undone. 

All because she still foolishly, foolishly loves her more than she should.

Reaching up she catches the tear at the base of her eye before it can fall and blinks at the ceiling.

_I’m sorry I’m not who you want me to be._

It's true for both of them, she thinks, pushing herself upright and wiping her hands across her pants. She grimaces at her stoney reflection in the mirror one last time. Takes a deep breath. Squares her shoulders.

Making her way back into the hall, Mildred catches up with her, chattering about how she’s going to go stay with Mum for a few days to help her recover. She finds herself nodding along automatically, mind far away and heart hollow enough that she can’t even bring herself to chastise Mildred that she really ought not to miss any school.

She follows Mildred down to the elevators where Pippa nods stiffly at her from where she stands beside Julie’s wheelchair, and Mildred chats easily with the discharge nurse all the way to the ground floor, diffusing the tension, for which Hecate is very grateful.

When they they reach the entrance Pippa disappears and the nurse turns and asks her several questions about Mildred’s school. She answers as vaguely as possible as Mildred grins and Julie snickers before Pippa reappears, snow on her coat and looking windblown.

“I’m double parked and it’s snowing like the clappers out there. Best see if we can do this quickly.”

Hecate watches as they maneuver Julie out to a pale pink car and settle her in the front. She nearly loses her breath when Mildred darts up and gives her a quick squeeze around the middle before dashing out into the snow and into the back of the car.

The nurse turns and wheels the empty chair back into the hospital, giving one last wave before the doors slide shut behind her, and Hecate turns back, her eyes meeting Pippa’s across the roof of the car.

Wind is blowing Pippa’s hair out, snow catching in it, sparkling orange in the glow of the street lamps. It’s grown dark, and colder still, and yet Pippa stands out brightly, everything else fading away as Hecate holds her gaze, unreadable except for the unmistakable goodbye within it.

Eyes never leaving her own, Pippa slides into the car and is lost from view, the door shutting with a muffled thump behind her. 

Slowly the car pulls away from the curb and she feels a tug in her heart like she should be going with them, too. Like she’s missed something important. Like for some inexplicable reason she should be a part of their little family as well, snuggly wrapped up in a warm car on a snowy night, Pippa behind the wheel navigating them home.

 _Home_.

Mildred turns just before they reach the street and presses her face to the rear window, waving until the car trundles away down the road and is lost to the night.

She stands in the snow for a long time and doesn’t even feel the cold.

______

Later that night she lays in the dark, the castle silent under the weight of heavy snowfall. Morgana paces fretfully by her side and she tries to still her mind, tries to dispel the loneliness that scrapes at her lungs with every breath.

When she can bear it no more, she casts a dim light to hover above her, tugs out her maglet, and writes:

_Do you still want to meet?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Mum is right. The next morning Miss Hardbroom is in a mood to be sure. More silent and deadly than even what can be considered normal. She leans in close and hisses corrections in their ears, eyes dangerous and narrow. She stalks around the classroom, heels of her boots echoing in the quiet. A cat on the prowl stalking a mouse.
> 
> Next to her Maud gulps, but Mildred simply busies herself rereading the instruction for the sixth time, determined not to tempt Miss Hardbroom into any sort of combustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm back! Thank you for the lovely comments, hoping to go through an reply tonight. You guys!!! <3 <3 <3 But right now fic muses are flowing so here's another chapter...
> 
> THE ONE YOU HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR. 
> 
> [I rewatched YGM and cried all morning - ok i watch that movie ALL THE TIME and I cry through the entire thing. always. Send tissues. Send the ghost of Nora Ephron. This fic has nothing on the way that movie makes me HURT and I bow down to her. She wrote the most utterly perfect movie in every way, imo. Brb, going to go cry some MORE]
> 
> Happy reading. Who else is having a Sunday freak out?

_I have some news for you, love._

_Are you okay???_

_Yup, all recovered - heading back to work next week._

_That’s good. So, what’s the news?_

_It appears Pippa has....an admirer. I’m sorry love._

_What?! But she loves Miss Hardbroom._

_I know, sweets, but she’s trying to move on._

_But...Miss Hardbroom loves her back. I know she does._

_Sweetheart…_

_No, Mum. Listen, they have to get together, they just have to._

_Why is this so important to you, love? I know just want them to be happy, but maybe this is for the best._

_Because it just is, Mum. They just make sense together. They could make each other really happy, I know they could._

_You’ve the biggest heart, Millie. I love that so much about you. But I think this is only a good thing for Pippa._

_But Miss Hardbroom will be heartbroken._

_I’m not so sure, love. Sometimes people just can’t make it work out. Even if they love each other._

_Well, I’m not giving up._

_Mildred…_

_What?! You’re the one who always says to ‘think positively.’_

_Ah, a mum’s words used against her. ;)_

_Who is this “admirer?” What does that even mean?_

_Someone she met on a maglet forum. They’ve been writing to each other for a long time now._

_So they haven’t even met?_

_They’re planning on meeting tonight, Pippa as nervous as a witch on her first broomstick._

_Mum. No one says stuff like that. Well, if they haven’t even met, how will they even know they LIKE each other...like-LIKE each other, I mean._

_I guess we’ll have to see. She’ll coming over after so I’ll get the scoop then._

_Maglet me?_

_It’ll be past lights out._

_Please?_

_Mildred…_

_Please???_

_Fine. But don’t blame me if Miss Hardbroom gives you lines for yawning in class._

_I won’t, I promise (blame you or yawn in class). Do you think she knows?_

_Knows what?_

_About Miss Pentangle - about Pippa?_

_Ah. I don’t think so, lovie. But best not mention it. This is between the two of them, okay?_

_Alright. Ugh. This is such a mess of frogspawn._

_Oh, so you can use the lingo, but I still can’t? And I know. Now give your old Mum some love and get to class. I know for a fact you have Flying right now._

_How do you know that?_

_Just do. Love you._

_Love you too, Mum. Promise you’ll write tonight?_

_Promise. Now go. XO._

______

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s been this nervous. Or the last time, if ever, that she’s swapped outfits more than twice, or thought this much about what she’s wearing at all. She finally settles on a simple black skirt and blouse, her hair in its customary bun, a streak of red across her lips.

She wonders if she should wear something less conservative, less schoolmarmish. _But if she doesn’t like you for who you are, then she doesn’t like you at all_ , she tells herself sternly, casting a critical eye at herself in the mirror. For a moment she considers the slacks and low chignon that Pippa had dressed her in, how different and yet unexpectedly comfortable she had felt in that ensemble, as if Pippa had known just what garments would suit her best.

She swallows with difficulty, throat very dry, and tries to tell herself that tonight is not about Pippa.

But it is.

Because it’s about getting over Pippa. About trying this _possibility of romance_ finally with someone other than Pippa, someone who perhaps can love her without her causing them pain, without her tainting their life. Because someone like Pippa could never love someone like her like that, could they?

She smooths her skirt and turns from the mirror, stomach fluttering as she tries to picture StarWitch5 for the millionth time. Since agreeing to meet their messages have been more frequent than ever, filled with playful words and compliments from StarWitch5 that often make her blush and have her sitting up late into the evening happily penning replies back.

The knowledge that they’re going into this with at least some level of attraction settles her nerves a bit. Not that she’s ever done anything like this. And not that she knows _what to_ _do_ if this attraction with StarWitch5 turns out to be more than just cerebral.

She thinks of Pippa again and digs her nails into the palm of her hand. It will be different than being around Pippa, she hopes. She won’t choke on her words, or freeze, or say awful things out of fear - things that make her toss and turn during the long, aching hours of the night when her troubled mind feasts on her regrets.

No, this is a fresh start with someone who isn’t already her best friend. After all, the line with StarWtich5 has always tilted towards flirtation. The line with Pippa? Always solidly one of friendship. And only one of those lines she feels she can cross and have it be not be a betrayal of trust.

Sighing she scratches Morgana behind the ears before curling her fingers to switch off the lights. One last deep breath and she’s dissolving into a transfer and reappearing on the high street of Patching’s End, the small witching hamlet just to the east of Cackle’s.

It looks as if it’s just finished raining, the cobbles streaked with puddles that catch the lights from the shop windows and cast jeweled tones back upwards, like a pavement made of glowing panes of stained glass. She winces as a drip from the eves above her head catches the side of her neck and shivers in the crisp March air, wiping at the droplet before ducking out into the bustling street.

Owl and Ink’s Bookshop Cafe is halfway down the high street, a favorite haunt of hers in her college years, unchanged in the decades that have passed. It’s brightly lit old fashioned glass windows wink merrily at her as she approaches and she can just make out the busy cafe within and the rows and rows of bookshelves that fan out behind the seating area.

When StarWitch5 had admitted to loving this little shop as well Hecate had felt a tug in her heart, a fluttering really. A pull to meet StarWitch5 in a place that, aside from being by Pippa’s side, had been her sole place of comfort in the early years of her life.

But she feels so much older now that she had as a student - sipping on strong tea and working her way through nearly the entire collection - the owner had let her use it more like a library than a shop, so long as she agreed to come help with the bookkeeping on her Saturdays. It had almost felt like a home, she recalls.

And when she pulls the door open and steps inside, the familiar, inky book-smell and the scent of coffee in the air brings her right back to being all of twenty years old, alone in the world and seeking comfort in the pages of all the books held within this very shop.

She stands with her eyes shut for a moment before a curl of something sweeter reaches her nose. Something floral, something _familiar_ and _floral_ and -

Her eyes fly open and lock with Pippa’s from where she sits with a copy of _The Letters of Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf_ on the table before her, a sprig of lavender laying across the cover.

The letters. The lavender.  Eight o’clock pm. Owl and Ink’s Bookshop Cafe. All the agreed upon details in her coordination with StartWitch5.

StarWitch5.

_Pippa._

She feels like the world is falling out from under her feet before it rises up in sweet joy. Her pulse races and her skin buzzes and she feels like she could fly -

Only to crash down around her at the chagrined look on Pippa’s face as she tries to tuck the book out of sight, sliding the lavender into the frontispiece and crossing her arms across the cover to hide it from Hecate’s view.

_Oh._

She moves forward on jerky legs, heart pounding.

“Pippa.”

“Miss Hardbroom.” Pippa’s voice is cool and dismissive. “Unusual for you to be out of Cackle’s on a weeknight, isn’t it? I scarcely thought you left the place.” She merely glances at her before adjusting her hands across the book and glancing towards the door.

Mouth very dry, Hecate can’t think of a way to correct this turn of events, not when it’s so obvious that Pippa is hardly pleased to see her. And that she’s clearly waiting for someone else.

“I - I merely came to town to collect a book.” It’s a lie. But she can’t seem to think around the sick, clanging, chaos that is ringing through her brain. The room seems overly warm - and Pippa looks overly pretty - and she tries to suck in a breath to dispel the black spots that prick across her vision.

She steadies herself and instead casts an eye over Pippa, takes in her tight, black dress and the way the thin straps criss-cross her bare back. Her lips are perfectly painted pink, her eyes smudged with smoky, golden make up. She looks like she’s waiting for a date.

Like she’s waiting for a date who is not Hecate Hardbroom, childhood best friend and current nemesis.

Not Hecate Hardbroom who is currently bristles over broomstick in love with her.

_Oh._

Heart smarting, she feels the familiar creep of fear that rises within her whenever she feels she’s losing Pippa. Never-mind that she’s losing Pippa to _herself_ in this case - not when Pippa thinks that Code_Consultant is anybody other than _her_.

She finds her voice and lends it all the scorn she can muster. Doesn't know why she’s doing it, only that the hurt bubbling hotly inside her chest urges her to try to escape with whatever scrap of dignity is left to her.

“Hardly unusual for you to be out on a weeknight though, isn’t it? I scarcely thought there was anyone left you hadn’t dated.”

Hecate feels sick with shame at the way Pippa’s checks flame.

Her eyes narrow dangerously. “Now Hecate, it’s not like you to spend so much time reading the tabloids, let alone believing them.”

She shrugs, striving to seem nonchalant. “Well. Where are they then? Don’t tell me you’ve been stood up?”

It’s a farce. An utter farce. But she can’t seem to stop now. If she can turn Pippa against Code_Consultant perhaps it will hurt Pippa less in the long run. Much better she believe she’s stood up by a stranger than discover that she’s been so intimate with Hecate unknowingly.

 _Unknowingly_.

Her stomach churns and she swallows tightly.

“They’re just late, is all.” The door opens behind them and Pippa looks up hopefully, only to sag a bit as an old warlock enters.

“Is that him?”

“Him?” Pippa looks startled then furious. “No.”

Hecate makes a show of checking her timepiece. “Eight fifteen. Doesn’t bode well, does it for a,” she drags an eye over Pippa and arches a brow, heart shriveling at the act, “first date. Seems rather ill-mannered if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you,” Pippa snaps, and suddenly she’s hold the book tightly to her chest. “And if you want to comment on being ill-mannered, the person coming to meet me is completely unlike you. The person I’m meeting is kind, and romantic, terribly witty - with the most wonderly dry sense of humor -

“But they’re not here.”

Pippa’s gaze drops to the table and Hecate winces. Debates with giving this whole thing over and coming clean with the truth. But the door opens again and Pippa’s head jerks up to watch two middle aged witches dust raindrops from their cloaks as they enter.

“If they’re not here they have a reason. They wouldn’t hurt me, I know they wouldn’t.”

Hecate feels like her knees might give out because all of it’s a lie. Because Code_Consultant is standing here, doing just that - _hurting Pippa_.

Again.

As if it’s what Hecate does best, no matter how she tries to avoid it. No matter how she tries to keep her distance or tries to protect Pippa.

Pippa looks up and her eyes are fierce. “They want to know _me_ , the real me. They don’t push me away, they want to be close to me. They _care about me._ Not that you would understand that. You, with your cold obsession with The Code - regardless of who The Code exists to serve or who it disempowers - you with your strict adherence to that dusty old document.” Her voice raises slightly and her teacup rattles in it’s saucer.  
  
“You forget that The Craft is in all witches, and each witch is worthy of bearing it’s power. What you’ve done for Mildred is exemplary, yes, but what about the Ethel Hallows? What about Enid Nightshades? Julie Hubble tells me the things that go on in that school. It’s not enough to just help one student when you could try to help them all - besides, you practically had to be forced to even help _one_ of them in the first place.”

Hecate’s mouth is glued together in horror and the deep shame that Pippa is not wrong.

“But helping them would make you more like _me_ \- wouldn’t it? And if there’s anything you despise, it’s witches like me, isn’t it? My school, my interest in the non-magical world, my interests in general, my clothes, my favorite _color_ even _._ It is just a _color_ , Hecate. But you can only see the surface - that’s as far as you ever dare to look. Well maybe you’d notice a thing or two about the world if for one moment you didn’t think you were Merlin’s gift to Magic itself.”

Pippa seems to catch herself and sits back in her chair looking stunned at her outburst. She raises a shaking hand to her eyes and whispers, “Please leave. Please. I beg you.”

And Hecate turns on shaking legs. She doesn’t breathe again until she’s out in the night, drawing in gulps of the frigid air and rounding the corner into an alley so she can sag against the damp brick of the wall.

Above her the clouds have broken and the stars peek through. She takes a deep, rasping breath and lets the tears come, standing all alone in the light of the rising moon.

______

_How did it go?_

_Batten down the hatches, Millie-Love._

_What does that mean?_

_It means she went to meet her Mystery Love and met Miss Hardbroom instead._

_What?!_

_She was there to get a book and Pippa says they fought. Badly._

_But what about her ML?_

_ML? Oh, Mystery Love? Never showed._

_What?! Poor Pippa._

_Yeah. We’ve broken out the witch’s brew. Sorry, love._

_Ugh, Mum, you drink that stuff?_

_On nights like tonight? I sure do._

_This stinks._

_I know, love. But you better rest. I can only imagine tomorrow is not going to be a fun day in the potions lab._

_Ughhhhh._

And Mum is right. The next morning Miss Hardbroom is in a mood to be sure. More silent and deadly than even what can be considered normal. She leans in close and hisses corrections in their ears, eyes dangerous and narrow. She stalks around the classroom, heels of her boots echoing in the quiet. A cat on the prowl stalking a mouse.

Next to her Maud gulps, but Mildred simply busies herself rereading the instruction for the sixth time, determined not to tempt Miss Hardbroom into any sort of combustion.

They make it through the class and when the bell rings there’s a scamper for the door, girls crowding together in their eagerness to put as much space between then and “Halloween Hardbroom” as possible.

Mildred stays to help empty out the cauldrons and reset the room for Miss Hardbroom’s First Year class. She knows Miss Hardbroom can do it with the flick of her wrist, but it’s become something of a routine for Mildred to stay back and practice her magic.

And Mildred doesn't mind. Not on days like today where Miss Hardbroom merely sniffs when she notices her lingering presence and doesn’t even chide her when it takes two attempts to vanish the potions form all the cauldrons and three to lower the tables so they’re at the proper height for the tiny First Years.

Still, she is a distracted in a way that makes Mildred anxious, sitting at her desk with markings laid out before and a quill that is not moving. Not even magically.

Mildred finishes up silently and then hovers by the corner of Miss Hardbroom’s desk, unsure of the boundaries between them, reluctant to let Miss Hardbroom know that she knows more than she ought to, but still unwilling to simply leave her be.

She clears her throat a little awkwardly and Miss Hardbroom’s head snaps. Judging by how cloudy and troubled her eyes are Mildred realizes she didn’t even notice she was still there.

Mildred ducks her head a little, stubbing at the floor with the toe of her boot.

“Mildred.”

“Hi, Miss Hardbroom.”

They look at each other for a moment and Mildred sits at the same moment Miss Hardbroom says “Please, sit down.”

She wants to smile at the idea that they’ve developed this intuition for each other, but she doesn’t. Not when Miss Hardbroom is looking at her like _that._ All full of consideration and maybe a little apprehension.

Though it seems unlikely to Mildred that Miss Hardbroom is someone who is ever _nervous_.

“I wish to discuss something with you.”

Mildred opens her mouth but then snaps it shut around the words _Miss Pentangle_ , suddenly unsure where this is leading. After all, Miss Hardbroom doesn’t know she _knows_ anything.

She’s very glad to have held herself back when Miss Hardbroom steeples her fingers and leans forward, regarding Mildred intently. “I’d like to propose the initiation of a sort of club with you.”

“A club?”

“Unofficially. There are several girls,” Miss Hardbroom draws out a list and floats it through the air to Mildred “who I think would benefit from additional attention outside the classroom.”

“Like remedial studies?”

Miss Hardbroom nearly smiles. “No, rather, I was thinking more along the lines of self-driven curiosity. A Curiosity Club.”

“A Curiosity Club?”

“Yes. Each week one of the members picks the topic for the next week and the club spend the time between meetings educating themselves about the matter. It can be any topic. When the club reconvenes, all members participate in discussion and debate to share their thoughts and research and join in fellowship in the quest for knowledge.”

Mildred studies the list. “Ethel Hallow? She doesn’t care about learning, only the part about being best.” Gulping, Mildred looks up feeling like she’s said too much. But Miss Hardbroom is studying her closely, although Mildred cannot read her.

“I believe there is much Ethel Hallow can learn from you, Mildred Hubble. Perhaps this avenue can end the hostilities she has for you. The goal of the club is certainly to facilitate learning and provoke the curious mind, but I believe it’s time Cackle’s developed more spaces where students feel they can come forward issues that they might face beyond the classroom.”

“Miss Hardbroom?”

“I want this club to be a support system for the girls who join.” Miss Hardbroom says crisply, as though she expects Mildred to laugh. “As my apprentice, I hoped you would join me in designing the structure and principles of the club so that it achieves that mission.”

Mildred stares at her. Looks at the list again. “Ethel, Sybil, Enid, Me - since I’m The Worst Witch after all.”

“You are not, and never were, _‘The Worst Witch,_ ’ Mildred Hubble.” Miss Hardbroom’s voice is sharp, and she takes a deep breath, her next words sounding like they’re being pulled from a vacuum. “The Craft is in all witches. And each witch is worthy of bearing it’s power.” She closes her eyes for a moment as though she’s in pain and Mildred frowns at her in worry.

“Miss Hardbroom?”

When her eyes reopen and there’s a considering look on her face. “Perhaps, Mildred, the inaugural topic could be one you raised during one of our first meetings together. Contradictions in The Code - areas of The Code where a witch may harm another witch unjustly, although The Code outlines it as serving justice.”

She feels here eyes grow round. “You mean it? I’ve done so much research. I have so many notes - Miss Hardbroom - are you sure?”

Miss Hardbroom’s voice is faint and she settles back in her chair. Mildred thinks she looks very tired. “I believe sometimes one can lose sight of what is important in The Craft. Perhaps we begin to look at it from a fresh perspective.”

“Like how The Code is a document that was created by wizards many centuries into the practice of the The Craft?”

That gets her an almost half-smile and Miss Hardbroom nods. “You never were _‘The Worst Witch,’_ Mildred. But I’m quite sure you’re well on your way to being a very special one.”

Mildred absolutely glows, her eyes dropping back to the list. “I understand why Enid and the Hallows are on here, but Maud -  not that I don’t want her - but her parents support her completely and she never seems to struggle outside of her studies. Or in them, for that matter.”

“I felt it best if Maud Spellbody didn’t feel excluded, seeing as all her friends will be members. In fact, I think it should be open to any girl who feels they would benefit from joining.”

“That’s the bats, Miss Hardbroom.” Mildred chews on a nail for a moment before looking up, heart fluttering nervously in her chest. “Then, maybe, could we add Felicity?”

“Felicity Foxglove?”

Mildred ducks her chin and fiddles with the paper on her lap. “It’s her parents. She told them something about herself and they don’t want her to come home anymore. They’re glad Cackle’s is a non-fee school, otherwise I think she might be on her own. She’s trying to see if her aunt in America will take her over the summer, but she’s not sure. I think she could use some support. Plus, she’s one of the most curious witches in our year - it’s how she alway gets her scoops for that magazine of hers”

Looking up uncertainly Mildred is struck by the uncharacteristically open look of concern on Miss Hardbroom’s face and is surprised by the wetness along her lashes.

“I wasn’t aware,” she says softly, reaching over to take the paper from Mildred to make a note on it. “Thank you for sharing that with me, Mildred.”

Mildred straights. “But maybe don’t say anything. She doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“I shan’t. At least just yet. But perhaps we can find a way to ensure she had a bit more stability and certainty in her life.”

“We,” Mildred smiles.

Miss Hardbroom shuffles her papers into a neat stack and taps them smartly on the desk to align them. “We.”

______

_I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I wish I knew the reason why last night you didn’t show up. I so wanted to meet you - to talk to you face to face. Instead someone else showed up. Someone who I’ve been in love with for a long, long time - nearly the entirely of my life, really. But they only think of me as foolish. Frivolous, and silly, and someone they could never love in the way I desperately wish that they would. I’ve often wondered if they knew my feelings and what’s why things have eroded to such a state between us. And I wish I could hide the way I feel from them, but I fear I’ve never been able to._

_And though there’s no excuse for it, never an excuse for it, I was cruel to her. And I am never cruel. I said things that I will always regret. Terrible things I didn’t mean. I just want to be over her so badly - I want to be able to love someone who can love me back. Someone, I had hoped, who is perhaps a bit like you._

_I know there’s a reason for you not being there last night - you don’t seem like the sort of person to do something like that. We’ve kept so much of our daily lives masked from one another, but I just want to say that all these letters have come to make my daily life so much brighter._

_So, thank you, dear friend._

_Love,  
_ _StarWitch5_

Hecate stares down at the screen of her maglet. Blood rushes in her ears but not nearly loud enough to drown out the tick of the clock on the mantel. It feels like the hands are inside of her, twitching her heart at each passing second, causing her blood to fizz and spit through her veins.

Pippa.

In love with her?

Numbly she rereads the message.

_Instead someone else showed up. Someone who I’ve been in love with for a long, long time - nearly the entirely of my life, really._

She thinks about all the millions of times Pippa’s hands had found their way into hers. Thinks of starlit rooftops and sneaking through the dark school library after midnight and how Pippa always seems to stand too close - so close that Hecate would shift away, least Pippa sense her rapid heartbeat or the way she trembled at her touch. She thinks of them in the supply cupboard at the hospital, of Pippa’s delicate care in dressing her, in pinning up her hair - all by magic of course - but soft and intimate all the same.

_But they only think of me as foolish. Frivolous, and silly, and someone they could never love in the way I desperately wish that they would._

No. She shakes her head and brings a hand to her mouth, pressing it against her lips with absolute horror. Pippa was always the brightest and the best. Always done with her school work far before Hecate, always off being social instead while Hecate’s nose remained in the books, all the while nearly making the exact same marks. _Brilliant,_ Hecate had always thought. So entirely _brilliant._ Where Hecate always had to try, and try hard, Pippa had never not been a natural.

Lips trembling she rereads the line that struck her most deeply.

_I want to be able to love someone who can love me back. Someone, I had hoped, who is perhaps a bit like you._

Oh.

She thinks back to the cafe the night before and how deeply she’d felt that if Pippa couldn’t love her then Pippa couldn’t love Code_Consultant. Now she reconsiders, mind whirling and heart thumping painfully in her chest. If Pippa could love Code_Consultant as well, and perhaps love her because she’s _more_ than Hecate allows herself to ever be, then -

She blushes. Code_Consultant, though extracted from the details of her every day life, has always has felt more like her true self than the face she shows to the world each and everyday. She’s shared with StarWitch5 - no - with _Pippa_ \- things she never has with anyone. Free from fear or shame or regret. And StarWitch5 - _Pippa_ \- has embraced her all the more for it.

Feeling like a fool she drops her head into her hands, breathing deeply as the room seems to spin about her.

_She needs to talk to Pippa._

Standing upright too quickly, her knee bangs into the desk and causing her to curse, and the room tilts to one side as she’s overwhelmed by a dizziness. And chagrin. She squeezes her eyes shut and she lands heavily back in her seat.

She’s hurt Pippa. So deeply. So thoroughly. What will Pippa think of her now? Of how Hecate treated her last night and how she left in her the cafe alone to doubt herself and grieve over a heart that’s been many times broken.

_Someone who I’ve been in love with for a long, long time - nearly the entirely of my life, really._

But still. Pippa loves her. Loves her.

Rising more careful she tests her shaky legs and begins to pace the room, hands coming up to tear at her hair until it’s loose around her shoulders, wild and unbound.

_Pippa loves her._

She’s crying, and half laughing, and shaking, and breathing freely for the first time since Pippa took her breath away in the schoolyard all those many years ago.

_Pippa. Loves. Her._

And isn’t it so much easier to have Pippa hate her for loving her than hate her for hating her? She laughs a little manically at that thought. The very _idea_ of Pippa hating her for loving her having been what’s bound her heart in fear up until now. Up until today.

But no longer.

If Pippa’s falling for Code_Consultant, Hecate thinks suddenly, maybe it’s best to let her. Maybe it’s the way to heal the cracks that have opened up between then, seething fissures, and hurtful words, and years of misunderstandings and separation.

But that doesn’t mean Hecate can’t try as well.

Unconcerned with her disheveled appearance she transfers to the greenhouse and spends the better part of an hour selecting only the prettiest of blooms - the ones that remind her of Pippa - until she has a stunning bouquet gathered in her arms.  

She hesitates, considering, and then summons quill and ink and simply writes _I’m sorry, Pipsqueak_ in her slanty, spiky hand before dispatching the flowers to grace Pippa’s private desk at Pentangle’s.

Back in her rooms she drops back down at the desk, hair still untamed around her, and picks up her maglet.

Mind racing, heart pounding, she begins to write.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But Julie shakes her head, curls bouncing. “You’ve brought me closer to my Millie. Brought magic into all our lives, that’s for certain. Let’s just agree that we’re both better for this friendship and leave it at that, deal?”
> 
> Pippa smiles. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, here we go. The final four (yeah I know, I increased the number, things just kept...happening) chapters in one go. This story has kicked my butt.
> 
> Thank you for all the cheerleading from the sidelines. I hope you enjoy the ending of the journey. This story has been in my mind since February and I just hope that I've remember everything I wanted for it. It feels like there's a thousand threads to try to keep together! ugh. 
> 
> Kinda emotional rn. God. 
> 
> <3

Pippa feels as if she’s in a fog, a bad dream, the misty, dreary countryside only adding to the illusion as she drives. Lack of sleep and tears, shed for hours upon end while sitting on Julie Hubble’s sofa, make her eyes burn and more than once she has to pull off onto the shoulder of the road and step from the car, breathing the cool damp air in sharply through her nose as her stomach lurches and rolls.

_This was not how things were supposed to go._

When she’s collected herself, she leans back against the wet hood of the car, pulling the borrowed sweater more tightly around her. The newly green hills that rise above either side of the road give off an unnatural, almost mystical, glow. In contrast with the gray, low-hanging sky, the verdant hue makes her eyes ache until she closes them against the glare, resting for a moment as the chilly wind blows her hair across her face.

She shivers and straightens, brushing water droplets from her pants as she returns to the car, where the sack lunch Julie’s made up for her sits cold and abandoned in the passenger seat. Swallowing down hot nausea, she eases the car back onto the road.

In an effort to force herself to focus, Pippa mentally reviews the meeting with a wealthy donor earlier in the morning at a town just one over from Julie’s. It had been a success, but it had taken yet another toll on her already frayed nerves. Bright smile. Perfect makeup. Graceful well mets. Cordial, warm, and all a charade. A perfect mask pulled down over her aching heart and bone deep exhaustion.

And just when she thought she was done grieving for Hecate Hardbroom.

But last night had proved a double blow. And now with silence from Code_Consultant, along with Hecate’s acerbic, hurtful jabs, she finds she’s just as alone as she’s always been.

 _Not alone_.

She thinks of Julie’s comforting warmth, of being supplied with tea and the bottle of witch’s brew she’d gifted her on one of her visits last year, which Julie promptly had tucked away _‘for a rainy day. Because, Lord knows one of us will need it.’_

And when Pippa had returned last night, eyes red rimmed and body wracked with grief, Julie had pulled it from the back of the cupboard, despite Pippa’s weak protests that the storm outside had stopped. ‘ _Well, it certainly hasn’t in here, love_ ,’ Julie had said, eyes dark with worry and empathy, pointing at Pippa’s heart and then at the couch.

But the rain has returned as well now. It splashes against her windshield, matching the sick swell of the storm in her heart, and she sighs. And forces herself to think of something else, anything else, alighting on Mildred’s easy affection instead. The thought of the young witch’s curious eyes and plucky spirit very nearly makes her smile, and small part of her heart eases. The little Hubble family has gathered her close, bloomed up like a garden around her heart. Warm affection for the two of them floods her and she blinks a little at the tears of gratitude that come instead of grief.

She tries not to think of Hecate - or her parents, who she misses today in a sharp, desperate way that she hasn’t in several years now - or Hecate - or the silence from Code_Consultant - or Hecate.

The radio switches to a song about heartache. But the words seem flat and contrived, so very far from the reality that is the tightness in her lungs, her roiling stomach, and the sharp pain that clefs her heart further with every breath. She reaches out and shuts it off, preferring instead to listen the sound of her own breathing, soft beneath the rain on the roof and the sound of the wet wheels on the road.

Perhaps she should have flown, but the thought of being out in the elements with the rain and cold against her prickling, aching skin, makes her grateful for the safe confines of the car. And Pippa knows she wouldn’t even have the energy for a long term Warming Spell, let alone a Repellent Spell, after such a heartbroken, sleepless night.

When she’s about an hour away from Pentangle’s, she pulls off the road again. The rain has stopped and she feels overheated to the point of dizziness, her mind buzzing uncomfortably and feeling nearly too heavy for her head.

Pulling herself up onto the the damp hood of her car, she draws out her maglet, gazing off in thought at a lake below the mountain road. She feels desperate, and a bit hazy, and she wonders if she should keep her emotions closer to the vest, if it’s better to be harder to read than wear her heart on her sleeve. But that, she figures, is Hecate’s domain. Always unreadable, aloof, unattainable.

And she’s not going to be like that, Pippa decides. She has never _been_ like that. And perhaps with Code_Consultant there is still hope. Especially now that the very last vestige of hope that her heart has held out for Hecate is gone.

 _Enough_ , she thinks.  _Enough now. T_ _ime to move on._

Heart fluttering in her chest, she grips her stylus more tightly, fingers stiff from the cold as determinedly begins to write.

_I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you..._

______

It’s nearly dark by the time she arrives back at the castle. She greets her deputy and begs off dinner. Chooses instead to look in on a few students who are deeply engrossed in their books in the library, cajoling them up and out of their chair and sending them down to the dining hall, or to the kitchen, with the promise that they won’t spill on the books they tuck under their arms to take with them.

Once the library is quiet, she sinks down into one of the plush chairs and summons the school daily reports, reviewing them and adding notes for the next staff meeting. She summarizes her visit with the donor and sends off a note to the bookkeepers to expect the amount to be transferred, before penning a heartfelt thank you note to be dispatched as well. The library is silent, aside from the scratching of her quill, but it’s better than returning to her empty, solitary room and working there. She doesn't want to think about the familiar desk, the empty sitting room, the cold and lonely bed.

Her eyes smart and she pushes the tears down. It won’t do to cry where students could see her. Instead, when she hears the chatter of voices and stomp of feet from dinner breaking up, she rises and assists with evening rounds, glad at least to have something to do with herself. She takes special care with some of the smaller students, ensures teeth are brushed, that undersides of beds are checked for dragons, or yetis or, with one particularly imaginative First Year boy, a headless apparition on The Great Wizard himself.

When the lights are out and the on-duty staff have departed to their posts she can stall no longer and takes the winding stairs to her chambers on foot, headache nearly drowning out the ache in her heart.

But when she cracks open her bedroom door, she’s hit with the strong sensation that something is amiss. A sweet, floral smells washes over her, heady but calming, as if she’s stepped into the most vibrant spring gardens. Frowning, she curls a finger and brings forth a ball of light, gasping as it shines on the large arrangement of flowers that sits on the center of her desk. Pinks, and lavenders, and yellows and blues, of all her favorite flowers spilling out of the vase and releasing their gentle scent into the cool air.

Hardly able to believe her eyes, she lets the door snick shut behind her, moves forward towards the blooms as if in a trance, fingers reaching out to find a pale lilac cabbage rose very nearly the size of her head.

 _Code_Consultant_ , she thinks for a moment but then chastises herself, heart sinking. Code_Consultant doesn’t know who she is. Or where she lives for that matter.

 _Or that my favorite flowers are pink ranunculus and darling, pastel sweet peas_.

Fingers shaking, she plucks the note from between the ruffled heads of several violet tipped lisianthus blossoms and turns it over.

_I’m sorry, Pipsqueak._

For a moment she stands in shock before her knees go out from under her. She lands hard in the chair behind the desk, tears clouding her vision as confusion crowds her thoughts.

 _Hecate_.

She doesn’t understand.

She will never, ever, understand Hecate Hardbroom.

The note carries another smell, one that is purely Hecate and she feels Hecate’s magic still swirling around the vase and flowers. It makes her tremble. Her forehead comes down to press against the wood of the desk and she sits shaking unable to process this unlikely turn of events.

Every time she thinks she’s free of this, has written Hecate off as cruel, and cold, and heartless -  every time she determines the Hecate loathes her completely - Hecate surprises her.

_I’ve missed you, too. Pipsqueak._

_I’m sorry Pipsqueak_.

How intimate a term for her after the harsh words of last night. After the slap of ‘ _I scarcely thought there was anyone left you hadn’t dated_.’

Her stomach burns and she keeps her head against the cool wood and squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn’t _understand_. But the smell of the flowers beacons her and she straightens, staggers upright, head swimming.

She catches up the large vase and makes it over to her mirror just in time for her knees to go out again, falling into the chair, arms around the vase, breath coming in hard gusts.

She’ll call her. Hecate. She’ll call and demand to know _why._ Demand that she answer the three letter question that has plagued her for over thirty years now. Why. Why. _Why._

But just as she is about to breathe out the Mirror Spell she stops herself, slumps back in her seat as uncertainty rises within her like a wave. The Lamp Light Spell she’d cast upon entering flickers and dims and she frowns at the erratic thrum of her magic, feeling out of sorts and anxious. She makes a decision before she thinks too much of it, and whispers the Mirror Spell anyway shutting her eyes against the swirl of the glass as her stomach contracts.

“Well, you look like hell.”

Slowly and painfully she opens her eyes, but only so she can roll them at Julie. “Thanks.”

“And just why do you have a blooming garden on your lap? Did you stop by a greenhouse on the drive up and clean it out of business?”

“They’re from Hecate.”

Julie’s mouth drops open and her eyebrows rise incredulously. “The witch you spent all night in tears over.”

Pippa shrugs uncomfortably and holds up the note. “What should I do?”

“Do? Sweetheart.” Julie is looking at her in a mixture of alarm and concern. “She’s broken your heart. Again.” When Pippa slumps further in the chair Julie softens. “I’m glad she’s sorry, but remember what we talked about?”

Miserably, Pippa nods.

“And did you write your friend?”

Again she nods before dragging a hand through her hair, frowning when it’s met with an unusual amount of knots. “But nothing back.”

“Yet.” Julie gently corrects.

“Yet.”

Pippa smiles faintly through the mirror at her, tugging the vase closer and burying her face in the flowers.

“They are lovely though.”

“That they are.” The edge is back in Julie’s voice and Pippa looks up, biting at her bottom lip. “I know,” she murmurs, fingers tracing around the edge of a blush colored peony, “I know.”

Julie sighs and smiles sadly at her. “You look like a woodsprite who went up in a gale storm, Miss Witch. Whatever did you get up to on that drive back? When you left here for your meeting you looked as smart as a new hat.”

“I changed after the meeting.” She scrunches up her nose. “I don’t feel well,” she says plaintively, frowning at the realization that it’s the truth. Her muscles are aching and her skin feels raw; she’d written the burn behind her eyes and the throbbing in her head off are merely due to the state of her emotions, but now, scanning her body, she realizes it’s not just that.

“Touch of the flu?” Julie looks at at her knowingly and Pippa rolls her eyes again.

“When was the last time you ate something. You wouldn’t do the toast I made for breakfast. I thought it was just the after effects of witch’s brew. And something tells me you didn’t touch your sack lunch. Pity, because I cut your sandwich into the shape of an owl. Mildred loves that sort of thing.”

Pippa laughs, but stops when it makes her throat hurt.

“I’d say it’s bed for you, Miss Witch. Paperwork can wait. _Hecate Hardbroom_ can wait. So can secret penpals. Nothing wrong with taking some time for yourself to figure out what you want to do, if you want to do anything at all. Personally, I’d say you don’t owe Hardboom a thing. But that’s just me being defensive on your behalf, love.”

Sighing Pippa meets her eyes. “You’re too good a friend, Julie. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’ve been there for me, truly.”

But Julie shakes her head, curls bouncing. “You’ve brought me closer to my Millie. Brought magic into all our lives, that’s for certain. Let’s just agree that we’re both better for this friendship and leave it at that, deal?”

Pippa smiles. “Deal.”

“Now to bed with you. And lots of fluids and no -”

There’s a chime from behind Pippa and both she and Julie straighten. Suddenly alert.

“Could that be -?”

“Code_Consultant.”

The look at each other breathlessly for a moment, Pippa in anxiety and Julie in excitement.

“Go and see. And then _sleep_. Try to get some soup in you if you can. Or some crackers. Good think you didn’t fly. Would hate to hear the news you’d fallen off your broomstick. Though by the looks of you -”

“Alright, alright, I get it  - ” but she’s nearly laughing, nervous excitement bubbling up and momentary calming the stuffy fog that descends upon her brain with every passing moment. “Sleep, fluids, eat. Thanks, _Mum_.”

Julie’s gaze is fond and she makes shooing motions. “Mirror or write if you need me. I don’t have shift until the afternoon tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Julie. Really.”

“Go!”

The mirror call ends and Pippa pushes herself out of her chair, summoning her maglet as she stumbles into her bedroom and sinks down onto the bed, setting the flowers on the night table. It takes her several tries before the device appears in her hands and she squints in the dim light from the Lamp Light Spell that has dutifully followed her. The beam of light remains weak, its unsteady flicker casting strange shapes and shadows around her bedroom. She leans against the pillows and opens the letter, breath wooshing out when she sees that is in indeed from Code_Consultant.

_Dear StarWitch5,_

_I cannot tell you what happened last night, but please, I beg you to forgive me. Someday I will explain everything. But for now I can only write with deep regret that while waiting for a friend, someone whom you trust, you we met by someone who caused you pain instead. The fault is mine._

_Knowing you as I have come to, I can only assure you that whatever you said was surely provoked, even deserved. I recall you writing to me once, not so long ago, that a harsh reaction on my part was merely a human response and not a condition of my character. I offer these words to you in return now, along with your sage advice that your concern over any hurt you may have caused the other party speaks more to your character than any unkind words you might have said in the heat of the moment._

_You have have seeped into my life in a way that has changed me. I often think of your advice, and of your letters. And I am a better for it. You write of your hope for love. If I dare admit to it, it is a mutual one. Someday I will explain everything. Meanwhile, I’m still here._

_Yours,  
_ _Code_Consultant_

Head spinning, Pippa sinks further into her pillows, legs dangling off the edge of the bed until she can summon the strength to kick off her shoes. She dispatches a quick note to her deputy and slides beneath the blankets still fully dressed, turning the new letter over and over again in her mind. Shivers wrack her body and she burrows down until just the tip of her nose and her eyes peek out.

She watches the flowers on her bedside until the Lamp Spell wears off entirely and she falls into a anxious and restless sleep.

______

The next few days are a fog filled with much nose blowing and sniffling and her head is really too stuffy and full to nurse the confusion in her heart. She lays amongst pillows on the couch in her sitting room, Hecate’s flowers brought in to sit beside her, and does her markings when she can. The rest of the time she spends resting or playing tic-tac-toe and hangman on her maglet whenever Julie is bored during quiet times at the nurses’ station.

a s _     _ e _     o _ t    a _ a _ n

Pippa squints at the letters under than hangman drawing then writes, _I am not going to_ ‘ _ask her out again_.’ _Not yet anyway._

Julie draws a rule hand gesture on the maglet and Pippa laughs. It turns into a cough and she sets her maglet aside to drink some tea before falling asleep curled on the settee, worn out from the fit.

When she wakes, she feels groggy, a spiking fever making her skin burn and her head pound. Watery sunlight is trying to break through the clouds and she squints, trying to figure out what time it is and what has awakened her so suddenly.

The knock at the door comes again and she sits up, head very heavy. It’s the weekend. She’s not expecting visitors in her condition, or even her deputy to look in, having instructed her to mirror instead since it won’t do to have them both out of commission. Pulling her robe more securely around herself she stands on unsteady feet and crosses, opening the door at the same time she sneezes into the corner of her arm.

She’s already feeling woozy and the surprise of looking up into Hecate’s eyes nearly knocks her the rest of the way down.

“Oh.” It’s not the most elegant greeting, but it’s all she’s prepare to deliver.

“Well Met.” Hecate looks awkward, but no more than what is usual in her stiff black dress, and her stiff backed posture, and with her stiff, robotic, manners. “May I come in?”

Pippa sneezes again and almost wonders if she’s still dreaming.

“I have a cold.” She’s shocked by how hoarse her voice sounds due to days of disuse. Her nose is so stuffy that her v’s and d’s really sound more like b’s and she winces in embarrassment.

But Hecate merely looks at her before snapping her fingers so that a small blue bottle appears in her palm. “So I heard. I brought you medicine.” She steps forward over the threshold uninvited and Pippa then really does wonders then if she’s dreaming.

Hecate’s already in her living room before she realizes that she’s just standing at the still open door, with a still open mouth, and somehow finds the presence of mind to shut them both.

Turning she pulls her robe around her a little more tightly, aware of her unkempt hair and the way her pajamas are rumbled and sweaty. “What are you doing here.” It comes out as an accusation but she doesn’t have the energy, or the good will, to soften it.

Hecate turns and holds up the potion once more. “I heard you were taken ill.”

Pippa scrunches up her nose. Heard she was taken ill? From Ada? No, Pentangle’s would have no reason to dispatch the information. From Julie? Julie is hardly currently Hecate’s biggest fan.

“Mildred told you?”

Twin splashes of color appear high on Hecate’s cheekbones confirming it.

“I brought you a Curing Concoction.” She holds it out.

“Thank you.” Pippa takes it before crossing to the door, pulling it open, turning expectantly to see Hecate out. But Hecate’s face remains passive and she moves further into the room, looking about her as she goes.

“It should be strained and taken with hot water. Why don’t I -” she crooks a finger and Pippa’s tea service spins into being on the coffee table, steam billowing from the spout of the the teapot, “ensure you take the proper dosage. And you’re sick,” she turns and arches an eyebrow at Pippa, “you should be resting.”

Head feeling like it’s filled with cotton wool, Pippa shuts the door and trails after Hecate. If this _is_ a dream, it’s a rather disconcerting one.

“That doesn’t explain why you came all this way. I’m hardly dying. And even if I were, I’d be surprised you’d take the time to make the the trip especially.”

It hits its mark and Hecate winces. “I suppose I deserved that.”

Pippa huffs and crosses, sinking down on the couch amongst her mess of pillows and tissues and blankets. “No. It was unkind. I keep saying things to you that I don’t really mean.”

“I keep provoking you.”

It’s nearly another apology and Pippa thinks of _I’m sorry Pipsqueak_ and sighs. “Your flowers, they’re lovely.”

Hecate hums and takes the potion back from her to measure out a tablespoon, pouring the amber liquid through a silver tea strainer and into Pippa’s favorite rose colored teacup. She then pours water from the teapot over the top and hands it to Pippa. Their hands brush and Pippa struggles not to drop the cup.

“Our infirmary is perfectly capable of brewing a Curing Concoction, I’ll have you know.” The steam curling up from the cup cuts through her congestion. It smells like maple syrup and lemon and she tries not to sigh at the calming effect it has on her.

Hecate settles in the chair across from her and looks nearly amused. “And yet here you are, still sniffling and with a fever, I’ll warrant, by the looks of those cheeks.”

Pippa raises her free hand and touches her cheeks, feeling them flame even further with more than just her fever. “Well, curing colds is not an exact science,” she buries her nose back into the teacup.

“But it is,” Hecate says looking smug and Pippa tries not to think about how good the look is on her. Or how infuriating. “I think you’ll find yourself quite recovered by this time tomorrow afternoon.”

“Could just be luck,” she takes a tentative sip. The potion floods through her, cooling the heat in her cheeks and warming the chill around her toes. She drains the cup in short order and Hecate sets about making them tea.

“Honey?”

Pippa blinks at her and takes a moment to realize the pot in Hecate’s hand. “Oh. Yes.”

They look at each other more a long moment and Pippa feels her eyes growing heavy. Hecate sets the honey and the teacup down. “Bed, I think, instead.”

Pippa stands and stumbles slightly, tripping over the sash of her robe that has somehow come loose, crashing into Hecate who suddenly is by her side. There’s a gentle, steading hand on her arm and she doesn’t know what to make of it. Of any of this.

“Bed, Pippa.”  Hecate begins to guide her forward but Pippa twists, unsteady on her feet from the fever and from Hecate’s proximity, turning until she can snag the vase off the side table, hugging it to her chest as she tips forward again. Her thoughts are really remarkably cloudy.

“Why did you say you came by again?”

She allows Hecate to lead her to the bedroom settle her on the bed. The flowers are gently prised from her arms and she watches blearly as Hecate sets them on the bedside table.

“I wanted to be your friend.” Hecate’s voice is very soft and Pippa squints up at her. “If that is, at all, still possible.”

“Oh.” Once again it’s all she can think to say and she flops back against the pillows as the room spins slowly around her. Maybe she’s not dreaming. Maybe she’s just hallucinating.

Hecate sits gingerly on her bedside and the weight of her feels real enough. “May I ask you a question?”

“What?” Pippa sniffs repeatedly and Hecate hands her a tissue.

“What happened with the person you were meeting at the cafe?”

“Nothing.”

“But you care about them?”

“Yes. I do.” It comes out a little definitely and Hecate studies her hands where they sit curled together in her lap.

“But you’re not together? Why not?”

Pippa feels the strange effect of the potion in her system and her tongue feels too loose, her cheeks warming once again as she burts, “I don’t actually know her.”

It’s two pieces of information, that there’s a _her_ and she is a _stranger,_ and Pippa falls sideways, burying her face into the fluffy down pillow beside her.

“Really.” She can’t read Hecate’s voice and peeks up at her, willing the room to spin a bit less. It’s rather like she’s overindulged in witch’s brew, though she can already feel the potion easy the aches in her muscles and soothing her skin.

“We met on a maglet forum. I don’t actually know who she is.” She pushes herself back upright and buries her face in her hands in embarrassment instead.

Hecate’s quiet for a moment. “I’m happy for her.” To Pippa’s surprise, Hecate sounds like she means it. There’s no bite to her words, no mocking sneer or cold scorn.

“I think - if you don’t mind my making a suggestion - that you should try to meet again once more. If she really makes you happy.” Hecate smiles tentatively and shifts, reaching down to pull the covers a little higher, tucking them neatly around Pippa who gapes at her.

“I hardly think I need to take advice from someone who -” But cold fingers come up and still her lips, resting just barely against her flushed skin. Pippa tries not to gasp.

“I believe, lately, I’ve brought out the worst in you, Pipsqueak. And for that I am very sorry. But please, allow me to stop you before you say something that’s not like you at all and that you’ll fret about for days to come. I still know you, Pipsqueak. Even if I’ve been done a rather poor job of showing it of late.”

She lowers her fingers, slowly, slowly, and Pippa stares.

“I hope you feel better soon.”

Dazed, Pippa can only gaze at her in confused wonder. “Thank you for the potion.”

An odd half-smile flickers across Hecate’s face and she reaches out and plucks a peony from the vase, holding it out to Pippa.

“It would be a shame to miss the spring. Rest. And take care.”

She rises and Pippa watches her go, sinking back into the pillows as she hears the door to her chambers shut behind her. For a while she lays there, thoughts too hazy to make sense of, but feeling distinctly like there’s something important she needs to remember - something familiar tugging at her corners of her mind, just beyond her grasp.

She must sleep because before she realizes it the sky outside is smeared with oranges and pinks. Perhaps, she groggily wonders, she did hallucinate the events of the afternoon.

But when she turns her head, there’s a small blue bottle beside the flowers on her bedstead, winking in the light of the setting sun.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mildred is up and out of her chair again, scrubbing at her face and raking her hands against her head in a way that knots the wisps of hair that have escaped her braids. “Miss Hardbroom,” she huffs despairingly, “You need to tell her. You need to _talk to her_.”

Term marches on and the Curiosity Club has their first meeting. The girls are shy and reserved under her supervision until Mildred hands out name tags with the bright assurance that they will help to tell “which witch is which!” The girls laugh and then look at her askcance, only relaxing when she bites her tongue and doesn’t chastise them.

Mildred grins at her and leads the session, outlining the rules and culture of the club before spreading out her notes across the table and launching into a passionate debate with Ethel about the ethics of Section 7 as it applies to other guiding principles of The Code.  

Hecate steers the debate when Ethel’s tactics turn personal, reminding her of the spirit of the club and that unless her stance can be proven with evidence rather than barbed digs, her position is forfeit to Mildred. But Mildred holds her own and by the end of the session the girls have drafted an amendment to Section 7.

It all feels very subversive to Hecate. Though as she watches Mildred lean over Sybil to peer at her notes and work them into their draft, Ethel correcting her spelling as she goes, she feels a tug of pride. It flushes through her with a strength she can hardly handle and she forces down a shiver.

She wonders what would have become of her life if she’d pushed against the rules a little more rather than using them to build an impenetrable fortress, unyielding and uncompromising in its severity and with little regard for empathy or nuisance.

“Can we send this to The Great Wizard, Miss Hardbroom?” Enid is looking at her hopefully, and Hecate recalls the tale of how the girl’s father had dropped the wizards drawers and she wants to bury her face in her hands.

“I think,” Mildred says, rolling up the sheaf of parchment that has their final work written out in Mildred’s best penmanship, “that we should establish ourselves as a Club a little more first. Gain a reputation. Debate some more.” She nods the girls around the table and smiles. “We’re going to change the world, but we’re need to be in top form when we do. We’re only getting started. Right, Miss Hardbroom?”

Mouth dry, Hecate inclines her head. “Rigor is the best training for a mind. We shall continue next week. Felicity, your topic, please.”

Felicity curls her braid around her finger and tugs a bit, her face uncertain. “I - I was thinking, maybe,” she stumbles and Mildred nudges her encouragingly. “I think we should come ready to discuss the rights of minority witches. Witches who don’t always have the same rights because they identify differently.” She juts out her chin in determination as she speaks and looks so like Pippa that Hecate loses her breath for a moment in surprise.

“Like witches who love other witches, you mean?” A Third Year girl with dark braids asks, looking both interested and shy.

Felicity nods. “Section 54 discusses witch weddings, and customs, and ceremonies, and expectations. But it only refers to witches marrying wizards. And what about witches whose employment is threatened because of who they love? Or young witches whose parents don’t want them anymore and they’ve got no place to go -” she breaks off and studies the floor and Hecate can tell she’s trying very hard not to cry. There’s a movement next to her and she can just see where Mildred reaches out to take her hand beneath the table.

“That’s settled then,” Mildred says in a clear, sure voice. “Let’s research the current laws and analyze Section 54. Maybe we should look at 67 which defines admission to a witching school very strictly with no allowance for gender identity. And 72 as well, the Sections on how a witch ought to behave and conduct herself to be fit for employment. If you read between the lines it’s rather dark.”

The table mumbles in interest and jots down notes and Hecate only breaths easily again when the last of them are gone and she’s left alone with Mildred who stays behind to tidy up.

“That went well, don’t you think, Miss Hardbroom?”

She gives a sharp nod, emotion sitting tightly in her throat. “Very well, Mildred.” Her voice is rather gravely and Mildred finishes shuffling the papers and comes around to sit beside her again.

“Miss Hardbroom?”

“Yes, Mildred.”

“I was thinking of writing Miss Pentangle to talk to her about her school’s admission policy. I know it’s co-ed, but her policy is a lot more inclusive in language than Cackle’s when it comes to gender definitions.”

Hecate stares at her but Mildred continues on. “The only thing is I don’t quite remember if her magletname is StarWitch5 or StarGirl5 -  I accidently saw it come up on your maglet screen during our lessons once. Sorry, I wasn’t trying to peek.”

Ice flooding her veins, Hecate feels like the ground has suddenly opened beneath her chair and she’s about to tip into a dark, whirling void. “And why,” she begins, voice deadly soft, “did you assume that to be Miss Pentangle?”

Mildred looks at her as if she’s asked why witches need air to breathe. “Because, it was Star-Something-Five.” Mildred holds up five fingers. “High Pent?”

When Hecate doesn’t, or rather, can’t, answer around shock and astonishment that rushes through her at such an obvious conclusion, Mildred looks even more baffled. “That _is_ Miss Pentangle, isn’t it?”

“You mustn't message that magletname, Mildred.” Her voice comes out sharply and edged with panic and Mildred shifts in her chair a little.

“I can just ask Mum, if you’d rather.” Her voice is very small and Hecate curses herself, curses the trap of her own she’s laid and now is very near falling into.

“Here,” She summons a quill and writes our Pippa’s main account name on a slip of paper, pushing it across the table to Mildred. She hopes it’s enough to distract the girl from her current line of inquiry. But she realizes, as Mildred stares at the paper, and then and her, then back at the paper, clearly thinking, this is Mildred Hubble and not any ordinary student.

“It’s you.” Mildred eyes are burning into her own. “You’re the Mystery Love.”

She stiffens, hands clenching on the table. “The. _What_.” She means to pitch her voice as a hiss but it comes out a garbled rasp. “I hardly know what you mean, Mildred Hubble. Perhaps we’ve been reading too many Witching Tales.”

But Mildred shakes her head, braids flapping. “It's  _you_. It is, isn’t it?” She’s up and out of her chair pacing excitedly and Hecate can only watch with mounting dread.

“Pippa went to meet her Mystery Love. But she never showed up. And Pippa was _devastated_ \- ” Hecate flinches. “But it was _you_. You showed up to meet her but she misunderstood. And well, you are _you_ , and so you didn’t correct her, did you?” she turns on her and points an accusing finger. If she had her senses about her, she’d threaten Mildred that she’d spell it off. But as it is, she can only it rigidly in her chair, heat rising in her cheeks and panic in her lungs.

“Mum said you fought. Badly. But then you sent Pippa _flowers_.” Mildred comes to a full stop and stares. “You sent her flowers _after_ Pippa wrote to her Mistery Love and told her that she loved _you_. It all comes back to _you.”_ Mildred spins suddenly, arms outstretched and nearly crows with glee before collapsing back into her chair and leaning forward, eyes sparkling. “I _knew it_. I knew you were in love with each other!”

Hecate unsticks her mouth which feels very dry. “Detention, Mildred Hubble. Detention rather than our lessons this week. And the week after for that matter.”

“What?” Mildred gasps, eyes wide. “But what for? Miss Hardbroom -”

“For failing to address the headmistress of an esteemed institution with the proper formality. _Miss Pentangle_ , Mildred Hubble. And for over familiarity. My personal life never has been, and never shall be, a subject for discussion.” She sniffs as Mildred looks quite put out. “It’s clear Miss Pentangle tells your mother far too much. A trait they both seem to share.”

Mildred kicks her heel against the chair leg, a sure sign that she’s unhappy, and sighs. “I don’t care about the detention, Miss Hardbroom.” she looks up and the same boldness that she’d witnessed the Yule Ball darts across the girl’s face. “But I do care about you. Her eyes blaze with defiance. “Put me in detention all you want. I’m not going to be sorry that you’re _finally going to be happy_. Does she know?”

Mouth half open to chastise Mildred again, to re-enforce that this matter is not up for discussion, she loses all heart for it and very nearly lets her shoulders sag before she can stop herself. “No. She is unaware of her correspondent’s identity.”

Mildred is up and out of her chair again, scrubbing at her face and raking her hands against her head in a way that knots the wisps of hair that have escaped her braids. “Miss Hardbroom,” she huffs despairingly, “You need to tell her. You need to _talk to her_.” She whips around and frowns at her. “When was the last time you spoke? Not the night of the misunderstanding?”

Hecate rises and reaches for Mildred’s haphazard stacks of paper, shuffling them to order with her hands rather than magic for want of something to do.  “I paid her a visit. Briefly.”

“Recently?”

She thinks of the weeks that have stretched between leaving Pippa with a Curing Concoction, brewed with exact precision and imbued with everything Hecate could manage to add that might heal Pippa in any way. Everything aside from her heart, she muses. That will simply take time. And in the meantime, she writes to StarWitch5 daily. Sometimes as many as three times a day. The mere thought of the tactics she’s employing makes her flush.

“I believed it best to give her space,” she says icily, turning and moving to her desk where she summons the folder for the Curiosity Club and tucks the papers inside.

“Space? You’ve given her thirty _years_ of space.” Mildred claps a hand over her mouth as Hecate delivers her most acerbic glare. “Sorry Miss Hardbroom.”

“I will take your advice into consideration, Mildred Hubble. But I ask that do you not meddle any further. And I forbid you from messaging that particular magletname.”

Mildred ducks her head and mumbles something that Hecate is sure sounds like ‘playing a long game,” and she clears her throat sharply until Mildred looks up, a flush across her cheeks.

“That will be all, Mildred. You did well this evening. It’s time for bed.”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom.” Mildred makes for the door and Hecate quirks a finger so that the lights wink out and plunge the room into darkness. “And if I hear you’ve breathed a _word_ of this matter to anyone - ” she wraps the words in her mouth and coats them with as much threat as she can muster before letting the lights crackle and sputter, lines of electricity and lighting arcing around the room leaving no room for misinterpretation.

The lights blink back up and Mildred gulps a final _'Yes Miss Hardbroom_ ’ before scampering out the door.

It snicks shut behind her and Hecate turns back to her desk, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

______

In truth, she isn’t sure how to proceed with Pippa, not really. It had been one thing to summon her courage and visit her under the guise of plying her with healing potions, and Pippa had been too hazy and feverish to really have much resistance to her company. But the fact remains that she’s not entirely sure where they stand.

So she keeps her distance. Sends Pippa articles now and again when she comes across ones that she imagines she might like. Pippa doesn’t always respond, but she figures that’s as much as she deserves. She focuses her efforts instead on StarWitch5 and they grow closer with each passing letter.

She’s running errands one bright early spring weekend: a few potions ingredients from Howler’s Apothecary, a new quill and some rolls of parchments from the local papersmith, a can of sardines for Morgana who has been quite grumpy with her as of late from Feverfew's Familiars. She ducks into Owl and Ink’s to browse, and immediately loses herself to a new collections of essays on critiquing The Code. She's just thumbing through the book, looking for the sections she think Mildred might enjoy, when she looks up suddenly and is startled to see a pair of eyes watching her through the bookshelf.

“Hello Hecate,”

Her name. Not the formal, cold ' _Miss Hardbroom'_ Pippa’s been inclined to use of late. She’s so relieved she feels nearly dizzy.

“Pippa.”

They look through the shelf at one another until Pippa ducks around into her aisle. “Perhaps you could help me?” Her voice is soft, uncertain, as if fearing Hecate will rebuke her.

_Anything._

She inclines her head and Pippa’s fingers reach out to brush down the spine of a large leather tome with detailed gold embossing. Hecate struggles to not shiver.

“I’m looking for a book. Something on the topic of spell science with a whole chapter on the physiology of magical energy reserves? I read it once, ages ago, and now I’m hoping to use it in a curriculum next autumn. I can’t for the life of me recall -”

Hecate’s fingers find the book and she tugs it from the shelf.

“This one. Chapter Twelve.”  She holds it out and Pippa’s fingers slowly come up to take it.

“Thank you.” They look at each other for a long moment before Hecate presses the book into her hands.

Pippa glances towards the register, “Well, I had better -”

“A coffee -“ her voice sounds too loud to her ears and she feels her cheeks warm. “Or a tea?” She says at a more modulated level and Pippa turns back, surprise creasing her brow. “If you have the time,” She amends, feeling very foolish indeed.

Something passes across Pippa’s face, too fleeting for Hecate to read, but she finally nods.

“Alright. Perhaps to go? It’s so lovely out today, first nice day in ages.”

Hecate privately couldn’t agree more.

Pippa pays for the book while Hecate procures two teas from the cafe. She hopes Pippa still likes her tea with milk and no sugar, same as her, and she eyes a donut in the casement but holds back, uncertainty gripping at her stomach.

They walk along the high street sipping their beverages in silence and Hecate tries to breath, tries to reach out and sense the border lines between them. Pippa seems content enough but uncharacteristically quiet, and Hecate lets her take the lead, matches her leisurely pace and settling beside her on a low wall where the street tapers to country road.

Pippa sighs almost imperceptibly into her tea while Hecate studies her. She’s less tense than she’s been on their recent encounters, shoulders soft and the only line between her eyes appears when she shades her eyes to watch the clouds scuttle across the pale blue sky.

Hecate thinks back to the night she’d sent them into this tailspin. Of Pippa’s soft sleepy eyes, her messy hair, how terribly Hecate’s heart had squeezed in affection at the sight of Pippa in that ridiculous T-shirt despite how she’d masked it with her anger.

She nearly reaches for Pippa hand. Pauses and considers what would happen if she did. But Pippa shifts slightly just then and turns to her.

“Thank you for the tea.”

Hecate wants to tell her not to thank her. That there are still so many apologies running through her head, things she wishes to say, but not yet. Not when things are still so uncertain and raw between then.

She does touch Pippa’s hand then, just a slight brush of fingers but doesn’t linger, watching Pippa’s face instead.

“There’s a new exhibition at Westling Hall. They’re displaying early known runic texts. Would you like to go with me next Saturday - if you’re free?”

Pippa looks surprised again and she studies Hecate, the same unreadable expression on her face as in the bookshop, before she nods. “Next Saturday, yes, I could do that. I’ve been meaning to look in on them. I’m particularly interested in the illustrated volumes that were popular in the seventh century.”

Hecate’s heart flutters when Pippa nearly smiles at her.

“That’s settled then.” They sit together in the sun and don’t say much at all. But Hecate thinks the day seems brighter, more beautiful, than any she’s ever known.

______

_I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I think we should meet._

The single line appears on her screen just after she’s returned to Cackle’s, sun still warm on her shoulders. She smiles, or nearly smiles, palms suddenly damp.

_We should meet. And we will. I’m in the middle of a project right now that requires a great deal of finesse. But soon._

_Yours,  
_ _Code_Consultant_

They go to the exhibit together. And take tea together after. They both end up attending an event at the nursery in Patching’s End the next weekend, and run into each other amongst the rows and rows of hyacinths. Pippa is looking for a special variety, and Hecate is looking at Pippa too much to be much use in the search, but she helps all the same, the plants they’ve selected for purchase floating along behind them as they peruse the aisles. They discuss varieties of botanicals and their potency in various potions, and by late afternoon Hecate finds herself sitting on a large bag of mulch eating the lavender biscuits that Pippa’s purchased from the nursery cafe, the air warm and moist in the greenhouse around them.

It grows normal for one of the to let slip that they’re attending a lecture, or a book launch, or an event for educators, only to find the other in attendance when the day comes. Hecate’s hardly left the castle this often in years and her heart feels full. Full, and warm, and yet it flutters every time her maglet chimes and StarWitch5’s name appears.

“Finesse? A project that needs finesse?” Hecate drawls one afternoon when she and Pippa bump into each other in the wholesale glass section at Howler’s Apothecary where Pippa is picking up new vials for the Pentangle’s potions lab. She's shyly updated Hecate on the state of things with her unknown correspondent and Hecate has listened with rapt attention.

Pippa looks up from the flats of glassware and sighs, “Yes, finesse.”

“It sounds to me like she is married. Married with children.”

“That is a terrible thing to say,” Pippa huffs again, rolling her eyes at the way Hecate’s lips curve ever so lightly. “And did you just - _tease_ \- me?”

Hecate waves her hand and the vitals Pippa’s selected float to the register. “Perhaps. But have you asked? Have you written to her and asked?”

“No.” Pippa’s jaw sticks out the way it does when she’s being defiant but feeling uncertain, and Hecate simply surveys her serenely until Pippa blushes furiously and changes the subject. “We keep bumping into each other.”

“It appears we do. Next Saturday - there’s a farmer’s market at noon on the high street that sells a particular honey. It is rather more effective in a Sleeping Salve than any other I’ve found.”

“I could use some beeswax for the school stores,” Pippa mumbles absently as she pays for her goods and Hecate bites her lip to keep from smiling.

Later than night she gets the tentative question from StarWitch5 and while she feels guilty for teasing Pippa, the fact that Pippa’s concerned about such things intrigues her. _No, never have been married. It’s hardly the sort of thing I’d keep from you if I were._ She pauses, and then:

_How about meeting next Saturday? The cliffs overlooking Patching End. There’s bench at the outlook. Sunset._

She lays down her maglet and tugs her lip between her teeth. Hears Mildred Hubble mumble ‘ _long game’_ and nearly laughs, but her heart is beating too rapidly to commit to the sound.

Saturday can’t come soon enough.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your favorite time of day,” Hecate whispers, fingers coming up to trail along her cheek. Pippa realizes that the dress she’s wearing matches the black and blue of the sky.
> 
>  
> 
> _Oh._

Mildred discovers that The Curiosity Club is more than just debating sections of the The Code, in fact Miss Hardbroom keeps her word and allows for any topic to be brought forth. Enid has them all staring into crystal balls and Miss Hardbroom only sniffs in mild distaste, leaning over them in quiet exasperation as she helps focus and direct their magic.

Maud’s week involves a discussion and experiment in magical baking, and after only a minor fire - doused by a perturbed but disconcertingly forgiving Miss Hardbroom - they eat biscuits that makes them float around the room, giggling as they turn somersaults. Miss Hardbroom watches with her eyebrows in her hairline but doesn't call them down until it’s nearly the bell for bed.

But Mildred’s favorite meeting by far is Sybil’s. Determined to correct her errors with the Magical Fire and her overuse of fireflies earlier in the year, she does a whole unit on firefly magic, its properties and its uses.

By the end of the lesson the lights in the room are off and clumps of fireflies float lazily near the ceiling. Miss Hardbroom has contributed by casting a very nifty Summer’s Orb Spell and pearly swirls curl through the air, powered by the magical properties of the fireflies. It’s the most breathtaking thing Mildred’s ever seen and she sidles up to Miss Hardbroom and tells her so.

“Yes, well. I suppose it is rather a of waste magic. But just this once. For demonstration purposes.”  
  
“I don’t think it’s wasted, look.” She juts her chin out and Miss Hardbroom’s eyes follow to rest upon the Hallow sisters. Ethel has her arms around Sybil where she’s tucked beneath her chin in a way that Mildred has Sybil only interact with Esmeralda. Ethel’s speaking quietly to Sybil, and Sybil's pointing up at the ceiling, explaining something to Ethel that makes her nod along, a smile on her face that Mildred’s never seen before.  
  
Beside her, Miss Hardbroom sniffs but Mildred knows it’s not out of disapproval. “Ten more minutes and then it’s off to bed with you all.” She eyes glint in the light and Mildred nearly takes her hand but values her life a little too much to go through with it.

Miss Hardbroom has been different this week. Prone to gazing off into the distance while Mildred patiently waits for her to come back to herself and continue their private lessons. She know it has to do with Pippa, but she doesn’t dare raise the topic. She doesn’t even dare ask Mum, who is back to her dim view of Miss Hardbroom after the disastrous events of Pippa’s attempted meeting with her Mystery Love. But Miss Hardbroom has sworn Mildred to secrecy, and she feels really rather loyal to her about the matter. Though not so loyal that she’s going to let this get to thirty more years of utter cowardice if Miss Hardbroom doesn't get a move on.  
  
They catch the fireflies and charm them into small jars which wink at the from the shelves of the lab as they depart. Unwilling to go to straight to bed and leave the magic of the night behind, she sneaks off to Felicity’s room where Felicity practices her magic, making a warm, glowing ball of light float and dip around the room while they sprawl on the bed.  
  
“My aunt says she can’t take me for the summer.” Felicity refocus on the ball of light and reaches up, turning her palm towards the ceiling and rotating it clockwise until the light turns a soft blue, and then pink, and then yellow.  
  
Mildred sits up and looks at her in horror. “Oh, Fliss.”  
  
Felicity drops her hand and sits as well, her knees tucked up under her nightgown. “I’ve been applying to summer programs hoping to get a scholarship for a while now - ”  
  
Mildred takes her hand. “If there’s any way I can help - “ But Felicity is smiling, devilous, and pleased, and she shakes her head.  
  
“I got a letter today. I didn’t even apply. Here - you’ll never be believe it.” She slides off the bed and moves to her desk, retrieving a crisp slip of paper from her drawer and passing it over to Mildred with reverent hands. Mildred takes it and immediately realizes why Felicity is acting as if it’s the most precious document in all the world.    
  
_Dear Miss Felicity Foxglove,_  
  
_It has come to my attention that you are a talented young witch looking for further guidance in your magical studies. I would be honored to welcome you to Pentangle’s for the summer, and each summer here after, to study as my apprentice. Should you find this offer to be acceptable, please reply with your acceptance and I shall send along further information about the arrangement. The apprentice-mentor relationship is a close one, and I feel we are kindred in many ways._  
  
_Swift spells,_  
  
_Miss Pippa Pentangle,_ _  
Headmistress, Pentangle’s Academy_

Mildred looks up at her and Felicity has tears on her cheeks, eyes bright and very happy. They grin at each other.

“Did your Mum tell her?”

“She must have told her the specifics. I’ve been writing to her though. But I didn’t say too much, but I told her I had a friend who was going through a rough time. I felt she’d understand. I haven’t known how to help you and I so wanted to - ”

Felicity leans in and hugs her, sniffling against her sweater. Mildred feels her heart squeeze up relief and warmth as they sit together, safe, and cozy, the magical light turning slowly overhead.

_____

Pippa changes her outfit half a dozen time before she settles on a simple dress and sweater. It’s late April,  still rather chilly out, and she paces to keep warm beside the bench at Smuggler’s Point, watching as the lights of Patching’s End blink on one by one far below.

Her nerves jangle, her stomach flips, and as the moments tick by she starts to feel a creeping apprehention that Code_Consultant won’t show. That she’ll be left alone again, confused, and hurt and won’t know why. It seems to be a common theme in her life.

Shivering she turns and studies the sunset, pulling her sweater more tightly around her. The sky is just darkening to a deep cobalt with a bit of orange smeared along the horizon. Above her, the sky has progressed to black and she can see the first of the stars. The light from the town is not so bright it blots them out, and she tilts her head back, feeling like the world is falling away until she’s suspended in the vastness of the universe.

That is until she feels someone watching her.

She nearly turns but finds she can’t, anxiety gripping her body and holding her still. She breathes for a few moments, in and out, and in and out, her heart hammering in her chest until her muscles unlock.

And then slowly, oh, so slowly, she turns around.

Hecate Hardbroom stands in front of her.

“Are you following me.” Her hands are on her hips before she knows it, her forehead knitting together. She’d mentioned the time and meeting to Hecate earlier today, but she hardly thought Hecate would interfere. But here she is. Standing in front of her. Looking at her - looking at her - looking at her -

 _Like that_.

Pippa stumbles backwards and Hecate swiftly moves towards her, grabbing her wrists and pulling her in so she’s not so close to the lip of the cliff. It results in them standing very close together and Pippa can see the light from the fading sun and the village below reflecting in Hecate’s eyes.

Hecate’s warm, soft, gentle eyes.

_Oh._

“Your favorite time of day,” Hecate whispers, fingers coming up to trail along her cheek. Pippa realizes that the dress she’s wearing matches the black and blue of the sky.

_Oh._

She half-laughs, half-cries, the enormity of it all sending her heart in a thousand different directions as she replays a million moments in her head from the past year. From the past forty. She stares at Hecate and wars with anger, with longing, above all, with relief.

“Don’t cry, Star Witch, please, don’t cry.” Hecate’s fingers are cool against her skin and Pippa hadn’t even realized tears were falling down her face until now. She leans her face against Hecate’s hand and sucks in a breath.

“I wanted it to be you. I always only wanted it to be you. But I thought -”

“I know.” Hecate strokes her face, holding her gently. “I know what I made you think. I’m sorry.”

Pippa shakes her head. “But why -”

Hecate steps closer still until their hips are nearly touching. “Because I’ve always felt this way,” she breaths, lips nearly against Pippa’s. And Pippa leans in, leans closer, let’s her eyes fall shut at Hecate’s words. Feels Hecate’s breath warm against her own, feels the deep ache rise within her as she closes the distance, nearly sobs in relief against Hecate’s mouth as their lips touch.

Her hands come up and guide Hecate's face closer. She presses against her, hands shaking as warmth floods through her. It’s like lighting in her body, lighting in her brain. She can’t think. Can only feel. She pushes Hecate back, further and further, until she has her against a nearby tree, her mouth desperate, her fingers gripping Hecate’s hips.

“Pippa,” Hecate breaks the kiss and gasps for air and Pippa can feel her tremble as she moves down her throat instead, pushing aside the high collar. She nips at Hecate’s pulse point and Hecate’s knees go out. Pippa catches her and pins her more closely against the trunk, using her own body to hold her up.

“I’m furious with you.” She kisses her. “Absolutely furious.”

Hecate’s hands find her waist as she straightens. “I know. You have every right to be.”

Pippa licks her lips. Looks at Hecate in the gathering darkness. Notes the way her chest heaves and her eyes gleam. But so many emotions course through her: hurt, and anger, and love and affection. She settles on the most pronounced. Want. Pure, unfettered want, and pushes Hecate more firmly backward, her mouth once again instistant against Hecate’s own.

She knows she’s making noises, sounds that are indecent for their location. Despite the seeming remoteness, she doesn’t fancy being interrupted. Not now. Not when they’re about to -

Dizzy and panting she staggers back, Hecate’s hands catching her wrists again to hold her steady. “Pippa -”

“Furious. Really. Simply furious. May I transfer us?”

Hecate nods, eyes dark, and Pippa pulls her in again for a kiss as the world winks out.

______

They land in a dark hallway and stumble slightly, Pippa’s hands reaching out to keep them upright.

“Where are we?” Hecate breaths against her lips. “This isn’t Pentangle’s.”

“No,” Pippa nibbles at her bottom lip until Hecate makes a small noise and pulls back to rest their foreheads together. “I didn’t want us to be interrupted.”

Hecate feels a door knob digging into her back and reaches behind her to turn it until they fall into the room beyond and Pippa magicks a small globe of light to hover above them. The room comes into focus and she gasps at the botanical wallpaper and the constellation mobile above the bed.

“We’re home.” It’s out of her mouth before she can think and she flushes, looking down at the tip of her shoes. But Pippa’s hands are back on her face, tugging her head up until their eye to eye. And Pippa’s looking at her, with a softness and a gentleness, tears clinging her to her lashes.

“Home,” she whispers, dragging a thumb across Hecate’s bottom lip. “You still think of this as home?” Hecate doesn’t know what to say and tries to pull away, but Pippa holds her fast, eyes shining. “I always dreamed of making this a home with you.”

Tears cloud her eyes and she presses their lips together, once, twice, three times, stumbling back a little further into the room until Pippa laughs against her lips and pulls her back. “Not in here, I don’t sleep here now. I’m down the hall.” Tugging on her wrist, Pippa leads the way, past the familiar picture frames that line the walls and into a room that is no longer greens and earth tones, but pale blush and cream. It’s Pippa and every way but Hecate feels the loss rise in her throat.

“You’re parents -”

Pippa turns and wraps her arms around her, pulling them hip to hip. “Loved you, Hecate. So much.”

“Even after -”

“Even after.” Pippa kisses the tip of her nose and Hecate feels hot shame in her stomach.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all alright now.”

“But you’re furious.”

Pippa laughs a little wetly and captures her mouth, deepening the kiss until Hecate’s tongue brushes hers. “Keep kissing me like that and I won’t be for much longer.” She guides them to the bed and presses Hecate down and crawls on top of her to pepper her face with kisses. Hecate suddenly finds her hair down and loose about her face, warm hands gentle against her scalp.

Pippa draws back suddenly and looks down at her. There’s something on her face, that look that Hecate’s seen so often of late but can’t read. Like Pippa’s hiding herself away, on guard, and uncertain all at once. She reaches up and smooths her forehead and Pippa sighs. “I need to know that you’re not going to run again. I can’t do this unless you’re willing to commit. To communicate. I love you, Hecate. I have loved you for so long. But I can’t go through another heartbreak. I haven’t it left in me. And besides, Julie Hubble would kill you if you dared.”

Hecate pushes herself up, her hands finding Pippa’s shoulder blades as she guides her forward so that she’s all but kneeling in her lap. “I won’t. I promise. I’ve made such a mess of this - “

Pippa kisses her cheek. “I should have known. I should have seen you were struggling.”

“No, Pipsqueak. You tried. I wouldn't let you help me. I couldn’t ask for help. Or tell you what I needed. I was too afraid.”

Pippa’s eyes are very dark all of a sudden. “And now? Will you ask for what you need?” She waits, fingers stroking at Hecate’s collar bones and Hecate suppresses a shiver.

“Yes,” she whispers against Pippa’s lips. “I need you. Just you.”

They fall back on the bed, hands and mouths and tongues moving together until they’re in their underthings and Pippa is gasping against Hecate’s mouth in a way that makes her feel like she’s about to break into a thousand white, hot shards.

“Pippa,” she whispers. In the dim light of the room Pippa’s pupils are blown wide. Her hands are trailing down Hecate’s naked sides, her knee positioned in a way that makes Hecate want to press against her but she holds herself back. “I haven’t - I’ve never -” humiliation floods through her and she curls into herself, scooting back from Pippa until there’s space between them on the bed.

But Pippa’s eyes are gentle and she brushes the hair from Hecate’s forehead with tender fingers. “You’ve never been with anyone before?” Slowly, Hecate shakes her head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Pippa looks concerned, “Whatever for?”

Trying to manage her nerves Hecate shrugs a little. ‘It’s just that - that - I can imagine you’d hope I was more experienced. You’re clearly know what you’re doing and  -” it’s a misstep, she knows it the moment the words leave her mouth. She cringes at Pippa’s hurt expression. “That’s not what I mean - “

“What? Because there’s ‘no one left I haven’t dated?’” Pippa sits up on the bed, hands curling by her side. “That I haven’t _slept with -_  that’s what you mean?”

Hecate shakes her head and pushes herself up as well, heart quaking. “I should never have said that. I hurt you. I know I did. I’m so sorry, Pippa.”

Pippa softens slightly but it looks like it’s taking her a great deal of effort. She moves to sit cross legged on the bed, fingers tracking the rosebud patterns of the duvet.

“After you left I - well - I guess you could say I had a bit of a wild spell. I was young and it was easy to find partners. But none of them were who I wanted.” She glances up at Hecate but then resumes her study of the flowers beneath her fingertips. “I just wanted them all to be you. Or be enough like you that it would stop hurting to so much. I kept looking for someone to fill the space you left behind, to make me feel the way I felt around you.”

“I’m sorry,” Hecate whispers, voice breaking in the quiet.

Pippa shrugs her shoulders up and then lets them drop. “I don’t necessary regret it. I learned what I liked. What I didn’t like.” She blows hair out of her eyes and wraps her arms around herself, shivering slightly. Hecate wants to reach for her but holds back.

“I was in and out of bad relationships for a while in my late twenties. The last one was pretty bad.” Pippa blinks up and the ceiling, shoulders hunching forward. “It was after that I decided that I was better off alone. That’s when I started Pentangle’s. That’s when I started living for myself rather than the ghost of a life I had hoped I would have.”

She looks at Hecate and smiles sadly. “I learned a lot about myself. I build up good support structures. Healthy ones. But while I wasn't any less lonely, at least I found purpose, found myself.”

Hecate reaches for her hand and entwins their fingers. “Pippa - “

“It’s okay,” Pippa whispers, unfurling and moving closer, kneeling beside her on the bed. “I can see how it would have looked to you now. Feeling the way you felt. Watching me as I -”

Hecate pulls her forward and presses their mouths together. She tries to put everything she feels into the kiss, the desperate, near possessive desire she feels, her regret, her apologies. “I just wanted it to be me,” she whispers and Pippa presses her back down to the bed, moving to sit atop her.

She pins Hecate’s hands over her head, leaving her vulnerable and exposed as she stares down at her. “We’ve fought for so long,” Pippa breathes, “it’s funny to think that the whole time we were really just agreeing.” She kisses her way down Hecate’s throat until Hecate’s panting and pulls back, eyes bright.

“I want you to feel comfortable. But I know you don’t feel comfortable with anything until you’ve truly mastered it.”

Hecate presses against Pippa’s palms until she releases her arms and she slides her hands up Pippa’s back, pulling her down until they’re chest to chest. Pippa is warm and soft against her and she shivers at the sensation, arching up against her as they kiss. “Teach me,” she whispers when they part. She presses their foreheads together and vanishes their garments until they’re truly skin to skin. Pippa’s breathing increases, hot against her cheek. “Teach me everything.”

And as the moon rises higher, bathing their bed in its soft, iridescent glow, Pippa does.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Hardbroom’s long fingers take a long time to undo the twine ribbon. She works the flaps free on the wrapping one by one, and Mildred shifts impatiently. For a moment she thinks that Miss Hardbroom might be apprehensive about what she’s going to find inside, but it suddenly occurs to her that Miss Hardbroom probably isn’t one to get gifts often. Mildred realizes that she’s savoring the experience, her hands tender as they pull away the wrapping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Ok. Here is it. I'm sorry if you noticed any glaring typos/error. I really tried, but this story...I just need it to be over. It really was a rough ride writing it, I should have just waited until I had the whole thing done to post. But, well, here it is. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. Love, love, love to you all.

It’s nearly the end of term and Mildred fidgets outside Miss Hardbroom door, palms sweating against the brown paper package she holds in her hands. Taking a deep breath she knocks, and when she’s bade to enter does so, shutting the door softly behind her.

Miss Hardbroom looks up from her desk, a small frown between her eyebrows. There’s a pink sweater on the chair by the fire, and a pink broomstick leaning against the window, and Miss Hardbroom’s face is much more relaxed than Mildred has ever really seen it.

“Oh. Erm. I didn’t mean to interrupt you and - “

Miss Hardbroom rises and crosses around the desk, “You haven’t. Miss Pentangle is in Miss Cackle’s office. Discussing a Cauldron Competition for next fall between the two schools.”

“So you are - ?” Mildred doesn’t know how to phrase it and Miss Hardbroom looks away, her cheeks pinking. “Happy?” She settles on. Thinks that’s all that matters, really.

Miss Hardbroom looks at her sharply. Seems to debate something internally and then gives a swift, decisive nod. Mildred lets out a breath and smiles.

“I know we don’t have lessons today, but I brought you something. A thank you. For working with me this year and for letting me be your apprentice.”

She holds out the brown paper wrapped gift and Miss Hardbroom takes it slowly, a look on her face that Mildred only has seen around Miss Pentangle - like when she’s touched but doesn’t quite know how to accept it.

“Go on,” Mildred prompts and sprawls in one of the armchair, tracking Miss Hardbroom with her eyes until she sits as well. “Open it.”

Miss Hardbroom’s long fingers take a long time to undo the twine ribbon. She works the flaps free on the wrapping one by one, and Mildred shifts impatiently. For a moment she thinks that Miss Hardbroom might be apprehensive about what she’s going to find inside, but it suddenly occurs to her that Miss Hardbroom probably isn’t one to get gifts often. Mildred realizes that she’s savoring the experience, her hands tender as they pull away the wrapping.

When it does fall away Miss Hardbroom is quiet for a long time, staring down at the square book in her hands.

“Mildred.” It’s little more than a breath and Mildred leans forward in anticipation.

“Open it,” she says again. And Miss Hardbroom does, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as she turns through the pages. It fails to hide the emotion in her eyes though, and Mildred grins, darting over to sit in the chair beside her so she can look over her shoulder.

Inside are illustrations painted in watercolor and magicked to move and glimmer on the page. There’s Althea and Amaris and the moon, Nerissa and her village on fire, Rhian and the four elements, all brought to life beneath Miss Hardbroom’s fingertips.

“Do you like it?” Mildred whispers, for Miss Hardbroom is very still, and still very quiet.

It takes a moment for her answer, and when she does, her eyes don’t leave the page where Rhian meets Fire of the World. But Mildred understands. “You are a most talented witch, Mildred Hubble. This is as fine as any of the most esteemed illustrated runic texts. Even without your added enchantments, your art is magic.”

It’s more praise than Miss Hardbroom has ever given her in one go and Mildred glows. “I know we haven't gotten to all the stories. I hope you don’t mind that I went to the library and read them, I still want us to read them together. Like this one -”

Mildred reaches over flips to a few pages from the end before rising and collecting Miss Hardbroom’s volume of _The Witch’s Tales_ holding it delicately as she returns to her seat.

She looks up at Miss Hardbroom who is watching her closely. “This one is my new favorite -”

Clearing her throat and feeling a bit nervous at their reversed positions, she begins to read.

_Once there lived a beautiful witch. The townsfolk called her Oona, for she tended the village sheep with such devotion. Oona was very gentle, and very kind, and very good. Now it is said that Oona had a great Love. And that her Love filled her up like a wineskin overflowing. And that wherever she walked, her Love brought her such joy that flowers bloomed beneath her feet._

_She could often be seen out in the meadows around the village, flowers in her hair, laughing with her Love, and speaking quietly with her Love, and nurturing her Love with all the little joys of living. And as the sun and moon and stars traveled in circles above, and all could see that Oona’s Love was truly a precious thing._  
  
_But as it all too often comes to pass, Oona’s Love grew sick. Her Love ached, and throbbed with pain. And, finally, with despair. And when Oona buried her Love within the cold, unforgiving earth, it was as if she were buried in the grave herself._

_From that day forward, Oona felt the absence of her Love like a phantom thing, never truly there, but never far from her. She grew weak and unsure, timid and frightened, and unable to feel all the little joys of living. Unable to make the flowers grow, no friend, nor family, nor friendly passerby could hope to make her cold lips smile._

_For a long time Oona lived a half-life, a shadow life. She tended her sheep, and paid her alms, and said her prayers, but it was as if she were no more than a ghost, walking through the world but unable to live within it. And soon the townsfolk began to call her Omisha, bringer of death, for flowers, and crops, and livestock took ill and soon died whenever she passed by._

_When Oona heard this name she went out into the fields and wept, afraid of herself and afraid of what it would mean to feel love again. But she missed the sun, and she missed the flowers, and the village sheep had begun to grow thin and ill._

_And so Oona reached into the wet, black earth and dug her Love back up. And when her fingers curled around her Love, around the bloody, pulsing weight that she’d buried there, she felt more than just and aching, painful despair. For beneath the pain of love, Oona felt hope. And as she cradled her muddy heart between her palms and pressed it back into her chest when it belonged, she felt the sun return. She felt the starlight. She felt all the little joys and all the terrible pains of living._

_And flowers bloomed around her as she wept._

Mildred finishes and takes a minute before she looks up. Miss Hardbroom has the page opened to Oona holding her muddy heart up to her chest. Her fingers smooth repeatedly across the page and Mildred waits, letting her take her time.

There’s a knock and suddenly Pippa is framed in the doorway, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Mildred! What a lovely surprise.”

Mildred hops up and stands awkwardly, halfway between her door and the chair. “Hi, Miss Pentangle, I was just leaving.”

“Not on my account, I hope. I was hoping to put out some tea and biscuits if you’d care to stay?” Her eyes slide from Mildred and her brow furrows when Miss Hardbroom remains seated, eyes still on the page.

“Another time, maybe. I should probably head to the library.” Mildred shifts from foot to foot, edging closer to the door. Maybe it’s best if she leave. Maybe she’s crossed a line and upset Miss Hardbroom without meaning to at all.

But Miss Hardbroom looks up then and close the book. Gently, carefully, she places it on the side table and rises, crossing to her desk. She stands with her back to them and writes something for a moment, then is suddenly by Mildred’s side. Though Mildred forces herself to look away and hide her smile when Miss Pentangle brushes a hand lightly down her arm as she passes.

Miss Hardbroom holds out the slip of paper. “Magical art history is not my forte. But these are the names of several well respected scholars in the field. Give this slip to Miss Wormtree in the library and she can direct you to the art section. Perhaps we can find someone to help expand your studies in this field as well.”

Mildred takes the slip and tries to moderate her delight. “That’s the bats, thanks, Miss Hardbroom.”

“Thank you, Mildred Hubble.” Miss Hardbroom’s voice is soft and Mildred very nearly hugs her.

“Bye.”

Pippa winks at her her as she turns go and the door falls shut on Miss Hardbroom blowing her nose.

Leaning against the doorway, she lets herself grin, and grin, and grin.

______

Summer has come and Pippa invites her and Mum to her cottage for a week just after term ends. _Well_. Her and Miss Hardbroom’s cottage. Mildred nearly squeals with delight when Mum mirrors her to tell them that Miss Hardbroom has moved some of her belongings there. And Mildred _has_ noticed that she does take her monthly vacation days now rather than rattling around the school on her days off, jumping out at them over any sign of wrongdoing.

Pippa’s invited Maud and Enid as well for the week, though Mildred’s not quite sure how she persuaded Miss Hardbroom to go along with _mingling with students out of school hours_. She wrinkles her nose and decides she doesn't want to know. Grown Ups can be so strange and secretive sometimes.

Felicity will be there as well, of course, as she’ll be returning to Pentangle’s with Pippa after. She’s traveling with Enid and her parents for the first week of break seeing as Enid’s parents are touring with a famous popular witch rockstar and Felicity is beside herself with excitement.

And as much as she loves Cackle’s, it’s so nice to not be there on the long, hazy summer days. Instead she splashes about down at the beach with Mum and Pippa and studies with Miss Hardbroom in the afternoon.

Miss Hardbroom is even stricter than Mum is about her applying sunscreen if Mildred’s even going to so much as think about the sun, and it makes Mildred roll her eyes. Though she giggles at the way Pippa smiles at the two of them as they argue about it.

She hadn’t really realized how much she’s missed Mum until she gets tucked in again every night, and drifts off to sleep with Mum’s hands smoothing her hair. The cottage has a sleepy stillness, the lull of ocean waves in the distance, to it and Mildred wishes they could stay here forever.

One afternoon she’s in the kitchen slicing fruit for a fruit salad with Pippa while Miss Hardbroom carefully measures out the spiney auger shells Mildred collected and crushed for her from the beach into tiny vials. Her friends are arriving later in the day and Miss Hardbroom is jumpy and gruff, Pippa amused and calm as she peels peaches at the counter.

“Mildred, hand me that sieve of berries, will you.” Mildred passes it over and continues slicing apples. She can hardly keep from grinning, routinely overwhelmed with the idea that she’s spending time with her favorite witches. She can’t stop blushing happily each time Pippa smiles over at her or whenever Miss Hardbroom directs a question at her from the table.

They finish their task and tidy up, Pippa pulling out lemonade and cups and placing them on a tray. “Why don’t we go out to the porch. You mum should nearly be done in the front garden, I bet she’s hot and would like to relax a bit. Miss Hardbroom is planning on flying to Cackle's for a few hours - there a few papers she needs to attend to.”

Mildred nods and heads for the front door, Pippa following with Miss Hardbroom close behind. She swings the door the porch open and -

There is Miss Drill.

Miss Drill who is _kissing_ Mum.

A hand claps over her eyes. She can tell by the perfumed wrist it must be Pippa’s.

“Mum - ?”

She squirms frantically and tries to peek around the fingers without success. These is quite a lot of shuffling, and a gasp, and when she’s finally allowed to _see what’s going on_ Mum is rather pink in the face and Miss Drill is looking sheepish - through a wide grin threatens to tug at the corner of both of their mouths.

“I thought you always said you would _tell me_ if there was somebody,” she begins, feeling a little indignant and more that than a little confused.

“I didn’t very well know she was going to show up and _plant_ one on me now, did I Millie-love?”

Pippa makes a sound from behind her that might be a laugh and Mildred tilts her head back to see them. Miss Hardbroom looks like she’s been studying the porch eaves with determined interest but Pippa is staring straight at Mum and grinning.

Miss Hardbroom suddenly drops her gaze and mutters something about having left her broomstick in the house, turning swiftly on her heel to depart. And Mildred frowns even more deeply since Miss Hardbroom _clearly_ is holding her broomstick in her hand already. It gets caught a bit in the doorway and she has to shift herself in a way that Mildred realizes is rather uncharacteristically clumsy in order to make it through the entrance.

“I’ll - go - help her.” Pippa turns and is hot on Miss Hardbroom’s heels, disappearing back into the house.

Mum looks at Mildred with concern and Miss Drill bites her lip.

“Speaking as the Star of the Sky, I know a thing or two about broomsticks. Maybe I better go see if they need assistance. Besides, I'm only here to bring a few papers to Hecate so she needn't make a trip to Cackle's.” She goes, passing Mildred with an anxious smile, and Mildred crosses her arms and turns on Mum.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Mum opens her mouth then closes it, then blushes more than Mildred’s ever seen from her. “I didn’t know it was going to turn out this way, love. I mean, I think I rather _hoped_ , but we’ve only spoken a bit on maglet, sweets. Nothing like that until now.”  
  
“You danced together on Halloween.”

“Aye, we did.”

Mildred narrows her eyes.

“And there was _something going on_ that day at the hospital.”

Mum’s face is like a sunset and she reaches for Mildred and draws her down onto the porch swing.

“Are you upset about it, love?”

Mildred blinks. “No.” It hadn’t occurred to her to be upset about it. Surprised? Certainly. Confused? Definitely. Upset? She thinks about all the times Miss Hardbroom had stumped her with a lesson and she’d sidled up to Miss Drill after PE or in the dining hall and been pointed in the right direction with friendly encouragement and a cheerful wink.

“She’s really nice, Mum. She’s one of my favorite teachers.” Mum looks relieved. “And she’s got a great smile.”

“That she does.”

“ _And_ she’s The Star of the Sky.”

“That she is.”

They look at each other and bust out laughing. “My Mum and the Star of the Sky.” And Mildred's heart squeezes up with love as Mum draws her into a hug.

Pippa pokes her head out the porch door and smiles at them. “Everything alright you two?”

“The bats. Do you think Miss Drill could stay for a few days? It would be such fun,” Mildred is suddenly filled with excitement at the prospect of all her favorite people in the world in one place all at once.

But for some reason though Pippa is giving Mum a rather significant look and Mum is blushing again and ducking a nod and Pippa’s got that _grin_ back on her face again. “The more the merrier, Mildred Hubble.”

Mildred whoops. “Miss Drill - come back out to the porch!” she hollers, kicking her legs so that the swing verses from side to side wildly and Mum grimances.

“Millie -”

But Miss Drill reappears and joins Pippa leaning against the veranda, relaxing significantly at the smile Mum sends her. They look at each other for a long time and Mildred waves a hand. “Hello, I’m still right here?”

It sets them flushing again and she and Pippa share a look. _Honestly._

“Pippa - I mean Miss Pentangle - says that you’re welcome to stay with us for the week, Miss Drill. Enid and Maud and Felicity are coming too.” She scrunches up her nose, thinking hard. “Though I guess that means bunking is tight. They’re all going to stay with me, and Miss Hardbroom and Miss Pentangle already share so you’d have to bunk with Mum, if that’s alright.” She kicks her legs out happily and the swing creaks though she doesn’t understand why suddenly all the grownups are acting so _strangely_.

For one thing, Mum is laughing, great gales of laughter with her head thrown back and her curls bobbing. Pippa’s eyes are very wide and Miss Drills looks like like it’s Yule come early. She rounds on Pippa. “You and Miss Hardbroom share a bunk do you?”

“My friends and I have sleepovers all the time,” Mildred says, happy to impart some wisdom onto the adults for once, rather than it always being the other way around. But suddenly it’s Mum’s hand that’s now clapped over her mouth, holding her words in.

Pippa’s face suddenly matches her dress and Miss Drill is looking at her, and then up at the house, and then back at her.

“Merlin,” she chuckles pushing off the railing. “Hecate’s been keep some secrets. I mean we all _hoped_ but -” Pippa inexplicably has buried her face in her hands all of a suddenly though Mildred is fairly certain she’s smiling. Miss Drills starts for the house but pauses. “Frogspawn, I owe Algernon twenty quid. Oh, I am going to go _tease_ that old bat -”

She disappears into the doorway and Pippa drops her hands suddenly looking horrified. “Oh. Oh, no. I best -”

She gestures a little wildly after Miss Drill and disappears again leaving Mum and Mildred alone once more.

“What was that all about - ?”  She distinctly feels like she’s missed something - there’s no reason reason for everyone to be acting so oddly all of a sudden - and it’s making her a little grouchy.

“Ah, I suppose it’s time you and I had a little talk, isn’t it?” Mildred stares at her in confusion and Mum sighs. “Maybe after this trip, eh? You and I and a weekend of just the two of us. And we’ll catch up. Just like old times.”

She leans in and hugs Mum, reveling in the smell and feel and familiarity of her. But when Mum doesn’t let go immediately she frowns a little.

“You’re growing up so fast, love.” Mum kisses her ear. “My Mildred.” She pulls back and smooths Mildred’s hair. “Nearly a teenager now, I can’t believe it.”

Mildred pulls a face. “Not until _September_ , Mum.”

Mum’s eyes are very soft. “No matter what, Mildred, you are my sun and my moon.”

“You’re mine too.”

They sit together in companionable silence for a moment before the kitchen door flies open and a very ruffled looking Miss Drill spills out and picks up her broom.

“You’re leaving?” Mum and Mildred speak in unison, the porch swing swinging out behind them as they both stand.

“Grocery,” says Miss Drill throwing a reproachful glance at the house. “ _Miss Hardbroom_ says we need milk - even though I saw _four cartons_ in the icebox. Says we’ll need it with so many growing girls in the house. But I know what this is -” She huffs and Mum laughs darting a look at Mildred before leaning in to kiss her cheek. Mildred grins.

“Mum, go with her.”

“You certain?” Mum looks anxiously down at the broomstick Miss Drill is now holding. “Will I be able to see it when we’re off the ground?”

Miss Drill grins, “I can magic it so the protective charms don’t work on you. Hop up and hang tight.” Mum settles behind her and raises her eyebrows at Mildred in excitement.

“Have fun!” Mildred moves over to the steps as Miss Drill starts to bring them off the ground to hover level. “Bring back ice cream, too.”

“And donuts,” comes Pippa’s voice from inside the house.

Mum leans forward and presses her forehead to Mildred’s before they get too high. “You got it.”

Mildred bounces down the steps after them. They’re rising faster now and she can just hear Miss Hardbroom in the house chiding Pippa about her sugar intake. Shading her eyes she laughs as Mum shrieks with terror and then joy, and Mildred grins, remembering her first broomstick ride with Maud -

Maud who is all of a sudden blocking out the sun, followed by Enid and Felicity. They create enough of a shadow that she’s drops her hand and whoops, waving up at them as the grow closer, Mum and Miss Drill now a speck in the distance.

The bickering in the kitchen grows more heated, though indiscernible, and Mildred rolls her eyes as her friends land.

“Millie!” Maud hugs her and Enid topples off her broom and throws her arms around Mildred as well. “We’re so glad to be here.”

She opens her mouth to respond when Pippa’s defiant voice echoes from the house. “Well, _fine._ Then I’ll just make _biscuits_ for dinner _._ ”

Enid and Maud look delighted. “Biscuits?”

Mildred laughs. The pair grab their brooms and race into the house leaving Felicity looking at her expectantly.

“You weren’t kidding when you said they were always fightly, were you.”

“Nope, not at all. But it’s so much sweeter now.”

There’s an awkwardness in the air between them and Mildred stumbles over her words as she tries to fill the quiet. “You don’t even _know_ how much you’ve just missed.”

Felicity looks shy for some reason and Mildred watches as she traces the toe of a pink sneaker through the dirt. “I know that I’ve missed _you_.” It comes out in a rush and they both blush.

She’s unprepared when Felicity darts forward and places a quick kiss on her cheek, barely there at all in it’s swiftness, before she turns and walks primly into the house, broomstick floating beside her.

For the third time in an hour Mildred finds a hand clasped to her face, this time her own slapped tightly across her forehead.

Her mind races. Or maybe her heart. Or certainly both. She trails after Felicity towards the house where she can hear Pippa’s warm voice and Miss Hardbroom's low tones and her friends’ bright laughter.

Maybe it’s not just grownups she thinks, a slow smiles tugging its way across her face.

Maybe all witches are more than a little foolish.

When they’re in love.

______

Later that night after dinner she stretch in her chair and looks around the room. Mum and Miss Hardbroom have pulled out _Magical Plants and Their Medical Uses_ and are bent over it together. She can hear them comparing magical and non-magical treatments and Miss Hardbroom even nods now and then, fully absorbed by what Mum is saying and making notes of her own in the margins.

There’s a lot of hubbub from where Miss Drill sits with Maud and Enid playing Radicast and they shriek as the cards deal themselves and sometimes burst into flames, Enid laughing wildly.

Pippa returns from upstairs and Mildred can just make out the way her fingers brush against Miss Hardbroom’s side as she passes her, can’t help but notice the way it makes Miss Hardbroom’s lips turn up ever so slightly as she listens to Mum discuss various immunotherapies.

Settling next to Felicity on the sofa, Pippa holds up her hairbrush and Felicity grins, sliding to sit on the floor. Pippa brushes out and begins to braid hot pink hair ribbons into her long dark hair. Felicity closes her eyes as Pippa’s fingers work gently against her scalp, a happy smile across her face.

Mildred smiles at the sight of them before scooting her chair closer to join Mum and Miss Hardbroom. She falls into the conversation and when they both adjust it to include her, her heart swells with pride and gratitude for the both of them.

She can hear Dimity laughing, and Pippa and Felicity talking softly, giggling now as they move onto the couch together and browse a witching fashion magazine. And then there’s Mum, warm beside her, murmuring with interest as Miss Hardbroom’s long thin finger moves to point at a cross section of an astragalus root.

Her heart feels very full as her eyes sweep the room once more. All her very favorite people here together. Magical and non-magical and both.

Miss Hardbroom reaches out and touches her shoulder to draw her back into the conversation, asking her opinion on the properties of crushed calendula blossoms in the treatment of skin irritations. Pippa catches her eye as Miss Hardbroom’s hand slide back down to the page and they smile at each other, happiness pinking both their cheeks. 

 _This is my family_ , Mildred thinks gazing fondly around the room.

_Where ever they are, where ever they go, they are my home._


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Ok. There was a conversation I didn’t find a place to squeeze into the fic but then this idea for an epilogue came to me and here we are. 
> 
> Surprise!!!!! 
> 
> Here’s a tiny bow for this journey. Thanks for coming along with me. I’ve loved sharing with you. Xoxo

Late summer brings languid, sweet-scented, sun-streaked days and Pippa almost wishes that term did not have to resume so soon. She shades her eyes and looks out over the parapets of Pentangle’s to where Felicity hovers on her broom just beyond the castle walls.

“A little more power in the second half of the spell,” she calls and Felicity takes a deep breath, redoubling her efforts as Mildred pops back into view, the enchantment around her dropping.

“Why is it that we use the Utter Transparency Spell rather than a Camouflage potion?” Her broom bobs as she squints in the bright sun.

Beside her, Hecate shifts. “Camouflage Potions are quite temporary. They are for short term use. The Transparency Spell ensures that a witch has coverage indefinitely. But complete dedication is required to cast a spell that holds. _Focus,_  Mildred.”

Mildred squeezes her eyes shut, growing more and more translucent as Felicity does the same. Soon Pippa can only see trees, and the grass, and the lake beyond where she knows they hover.

“Well done, both of you.” She claps and they reappear, each grinning. “Now, tomorrow we will add in the spell that acts as a sort of filter. It’s the cast that is used to act as a shield for a broom to avoid detection by non-magical people.”

Mildred and Felicity high-five, their hair blowing in the summer breeze.

“Can we go down to the lake now, Miss Pentangle?” Felicity eyes are hopeful and Mildred nods along in enthusiasm.

Pippa smiles. “I don’t see why not, so long as you are back by tea. Mildred, your mother will be coming up to the school after her shift for the weekend. I’m sure you’ll want to be here to greet her.”

The girls cheer and zip away, turning loop-the-loops and cutting zig zags as they race the breeze. Beside her, Pippa can feel Hecate. The steady heat of her. The equally warm feeling in her chest as they watch the girls go.

There’s a quiet contentment, Pippa thinks. The sun, the heady summer air. The silence of the grounds, aside from the shrieks and laughter that echo back from the lake below where she can just see Mildred and Felicity dipping down to skim the water. More than anything it’s the feeling of Hecate beside her. Her black dress gives out heat in the already humid air, though she remains cool and composed despite it all. Remains calmly and impassively herself. It grounds Pippa, in its familiarity. In its newness. In the relief of it all.

She turns and smiles up at her and they both unconsciously lean in until their arms are touching.  

“This summer’s worked out well, don’t you think? Mildred coming to Cackle’s when Julie’s on shift to work with you, you lot coming here to see us as often as you can? I was worried that Felicity would be lonely here without her friends. She’s adjusting better than I imagined, despite the trauma she’s been through.  I think a great deal of that is due to having Mildred around.”

“I think a great deal of that is due to having you around.” Hecate’s eyes don’t leave the girls down by the water but she reaches out, her fingers finding Pippa’s on the stone wall of the parapet. She brushes them against her skin, slowly turning Pippa’s hand over until she can tangle their fingers together. Pippa’s heart trips and sparks and she breaths in through her nose to stave off the happy tears that threaten to prick her eyes.

Hecate squeezes Pippa’s hand as she continues. “I should have noticed sooner. That something wasn’t right with the girl. When she first came to Cackle’s she was dressed like a child that was dotted on, that was well loved and well cared for. Hair in ribbons, new clothes of the very latest fashion. All pink and purple and covered in frills.”

“A bit like me as a girl.”

Hecate rolls her eyes.  “Yes. Rather more frivolous though. Or so I thought.”

“You thought that about me, too.”

Hecate is quiet for a moment, her thumb brushing against Pippa’s hand. “I’ve rather always been quick to judge.” Her voice is tight and Pippa can hear the regret beneath it.

“Yes,” Pippa breathes, but tilts her head so it just rests against Hecate’s shoulder. “But you are also quick to learn.”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes.” Pippa laughs.

“But this past year,” Hecate continues on, voice low, eyes back on Felicity where she splashes with Mildred down at the water, “I noticed that her clothes have been a little small. Pant legs too short, uniform rumpled. And I reprimanded her on more than one occasion for torn, worn, stockings at the start of winter term. I told her that her parents should have seen fit to replace them. Her potions kit hadn’t been restocked either. I reprimanded her for that too. There were signs. And I know the signs. I should have seen them.”

Pippa sighs, “It’s hard to know with this age group. They don’t trust adults, especially if they’ve found the adults in their life to be untrustworthy. Thank goodness she told Mildred that her parents had turned her out. And thank goodness that Mildred, empathetic and clever as she is, trusted her Mum enough to tell her. To tell you.”

Beside her Hecate sniffs and Pippa turns her head so she can brush a kiss against the warm, dark fabric of Hecate’s dress.

”You know that I asked Felicity to be my apprentice because the apprentice-mentor bond is so much more than that of student-teacher. It doesn’t have the same boundaries. It’s deep. It’s personal. It lasts a lifetime.” She sighs against Hecate’s shoulder. “And while I’m sorry I entrapped you into apprenticing Mildred, I don’t regret it. You need each other. And Felicity needs me. Being my apprentice gives her much more protection that she otherwise would have. Same for Mildred, though for different reasons, of course.”

Hecate hums and Pippa smiles. They’ve discussed this. Spent late nights, and early mornings, and long weekends discussing their respective apprenticeships. They’ve come to an understanding, battle lines disolved between kisses, and tears, and words of support and atonement. 

Still, Pippa heaitstes before giving voice to her next thoughts, breathing for a moment, savoring the feel of Hecate’s hand against her own. “I wanted to ask you something. I know it’s a difficult topic. But emancipation - I remember when you went through the process. How young you were, how terrible things were at home for you. I remember how much we studied the laws around it until you were at last finally free.” She leans against Hecate a little more, trying to impart comfort as she speaks. “Felicity is younger still. It will be more difficult because of it, but I was hoping similar steps could be taken. There’s no legal way for me to take her in properly despite the fact that her parents have made their position very clear. And while I always hope they’ll change their stance, Felicity needs a home. She needs love. She asks about the process. Often. There’s still so much her parents can do, legally, to make her life more difficult. As heartbroken as she is, she’s very keen to stay at Cackle’s rather than be shipped off back to America or to a reform school. And to stay here, with me, during breaks. Permanently.” Pippa bites at her bottom lip and looks up, finding Hecate’s eyes. “Will you help?”

Slowly, Hecate rotates her hips until she’s facing Pippa pulling their joined hands in to rest against her heart.

“You know,” she begins, voice catching and she swallows and tries again. “When I came to live with your family after, all the girls at school told me it was because you pitied me.” She squeezes Pippa’s hand more tightly at her noise of protest and brings her other hand up to gently brush against Pippa’s cheek. “They said you had a thing for taking in strays.”

“You don’t believe that,” Pippa whispers, breath suddenly painful.

“At the time?” Hecate shrugs with a slight rise and fall or shoulders. She blinks up at the empty blue sky and Pippa holds on all the tighter. “I didn’t want it to be true.” Her eyes drop back to Pippa’s and then follow the distant laugher, down to the water to rest upon the girls there. “Now I see that it wasn’t pity. I know that now. What it was. What it is. Why you do it.”

Pippa’s feels tears on her cheeks as Hecate’s eyes come back to hers looking just as wet. They step closer together and Pippa extracts her hand so that she can thread her arms around Hecate’s waist, pulling her in until no space is left between them. She buries her face in Hecate’s shoulder, fingers gripping tightly at her back.

They stand together until it becomes much too warm to be comfortable but Hecate’s fingers find her face again, eyes sliding off to ensure the girls are well distracted before she pulls Pippa in and kisses her forehead very gently. “Love.” She says simply.

“Love.” Pippa echos.

“Come.” Taking Pippa’s hand again she tugs her into a transfer, rematerializing in the cool, dark hallway just outside the library. After the brightness of the outdoors, it takes Pippa’s eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom. She feels disoriented and leans against Hecate, using the lack of one sense to employ the others, using their new found privacy to smooth her hands over the fabric on Hecate’s hips as she finds her mouth. Hecate makes a small sound, her breath catching at the kiss, and Pippa sways against her, hunger stirring low inside.

“Pippa,” Hecate whispers, breaking the the kiss, more than a little breathless. “ _Focus.”_

“I was focused.” Pippa blinks, vision clearing. She feels a flicker of satisfaction that Hecate can stand clad from head to toe in black in the burning sun with no sign of discomfort, but after a single kiss from Pippa her hair is mussed along with her lipstick, her cheeks very pink and her body on edge. “Very focused.” Pippa kisses her again and Hecate laughs a little, pulling her hips closer for a moment before pressing her gently away.

“ _Later._ There is work to be done.”

Heart melting as it so often does these days, Pippa drags her thumb along Hecate’s bottom lip until her lipstick is more or less back in place. “Yes. There is. Lead the way.”

It amazes her that Hecate takes her hand again and drags her through the library doors, doesn’t even drop it as they breeze past the librarian at the desk.

Pippa nods her hello to Ms. Marchbank but Hecate doesn’t give her time for pleasantries, pulling her straight through the stacks to the section on magical law.  Dropping Pippa’s hand she busies herself, long fingers pulling at the spines of books, checking titles, nose inches from indexes and tables of contents as she searches.

“You know,” Pippa says, leaning back against the shelves, content to watch Hecate work. Content to always watch Hecate. Work or otherwise. “I do feel Mildred and Felicity might be a little sweet on each other.”

Hecate frowns but keeps reading, refusing to take Pippa’s bait.

“Julie thinks it would be darling if it works out for them. She also thinks it would be hilarious if it did. You see, in a way, you inadvertently would become Mildred’s mother-in-law.”

Hecate’s head snaps up.

“They’re merely _children_ , Pippa,” She sniffs, selecting several volumes and returning the rest to their places in the shelf with a little more force than Pippa believes is necessary.

“ _We_ were children once.” She reaches down and pulls Hecate up until they’re nose to nose, lips millimeters apart. Hecate’s breath is coming faster again, her eyes dropping to Pippa’s lips too often for her to really be able to pretend that so long as Mildred and Felicity stay down at the lake, anything other than what is about to transpire between them will happen next.

“Pippa.” It’s little more than a breath.

“Let’s check out the books. Now.”

She pulls the books from Hecate’s hands and to her chest, as if they can shield her from her desire to press Hecate right up against the stacks right this very moment. Turning, she is startled by the hand that grips her wrist, holding her fast.

Something sharp and hot spikes through her at the way Hecate is looking at her. She is hardly breathing and Pippa bites down in a small sound. “Hecate?”

Her words are swallowed by Hecate’s mouth, hot and insitant against her own, and suddenly they’re transferring again, books falling to the floor of Pippa’s chamber as Hecate presses her down onto the bed.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers, moving so her breath is against Pippa’s ear, her hands busy elsewhere. “I know you hate it when I transfer you without notice.”

Pippa arches against her, bringing their mouths together again. “It’s alright. I suppose we’re even. I know you hate when I sneak out library books.”

Hecate pulls back, lips tugging up, eyes soft.

“It made you happy. There are so many things I could learn to be alright with, so long as I know it makes you happy.”

Pippa kisses her. “Like this.”

“Yes. Exactly.” And Hecate softly, sweetly, filled with promise, returns the kiss. “Like this.”


End file.
